"Inclosed, doubtless, in a sac or cyst which Mother Nature has wrapped round it, the tooth is there--in your little son's body; and for five whole years he has been the living shrine that held it!" It was quite true--as events rapidly and completely proved.
Ten minutes later, the trifling operation was concluded; the boy lay whimpering in his mother's arms and the long-lost relic was on the surgeon's palm.
"Take it, Captain Hawksley," said Cleek, lifting it between his thumb and forefinger and carrying it to him.

"There is a man in Soho--one Arjeeb Noosrut--who will know it when he sees it; and there is a vast reward.

Five lacs of rupees will pay off no end of debts, my friend; and a man with that balance at his banker's can't be thought a mere fortune-hunter when he asks for the hand of the woman he loves." The Captain didn't ask for _his_, however--he simply jumped up and grabbed it.
"By George, you're a brick!" he said, with something uneven in his voice--something that was like laughter and tears all jumbled up together; then he glanced over at Lady Chepstow, and flushed, and floundered, and stammered confusedly, but went on shaking Cleek's hand all the time.

"It's ripping of you--it's bully, dear chap, but--I say, you know, it isn't fair.

It's jolly uneven.