Thomas pulled out his trunk, unlocked it, threw back the lid, and picked up an old leather box.
"Look at this, sir.

It was my mother's.

And I'd be a fine chap, would I not, to let a drunken scoundrel steal it and get away with it." It was a Neapolitan brooch, of pink coral, surrounded by small pearls.
Haggerty balanced it on his palm and appraised it at three or found hundred dollars.

He glanced casually into the leather box.

Some faded tin-types, some letters, a very old Bible, and odds and ends of a young man's fancy: Haggerty shrugged.