"Perhaps," he admitted.

"I hope, though, for Mr.Markel's sake, that the Gray Seal won't take a fancy to it--if he does, Mr.Markel can say good-bye to his necklace." "Pouf!" coughed Markel arrogantly.

"Overrated! His cleverness is all in the newspaper columns.

If he knows what's good for him, he'll know enough to leave this alone." Jimmie Dale was leaning over the table poking gingerly with the tip of his forefinger at the centre stone in the setting, revolving it gently to and fro in the light--a very large stone, whose weight would hardly be less than fifteen carats.

Jimmie Dale lowered his head for a closer examination--and to hide a curious, mocking little gleam that crept into his dark eyes.
"Yes, I should say you're right, Markel," he agreed judicially.