couldn't help it," replied Averley rising. "It was that scoundrel Peters who put you wrong. But I'll discharge him to-morrow, and get those letters of Beatrice back from Mrs. Delamere."
"And you'll leave that poor little woman alone," said Hagar, as she escorted him to the door.
"My dear lady, now that Mrs. Delamere has read those letters she'll leave me alone--severely. She'll never forgive me. Good-night. Oh, me, what a comedy!"
Lord Averley went off, casket and all. Peters never came back to get his share of the blackmail, so Hagar supposed he had learnt from his master what she had done. As to Mrs. Delamere, Hagar often wondered what she said when she read those letters signed "Beatrice." But only Lord Averley could have told her that and Hagar never saw him again; nor did she ever see Peters the blackmailer. Finally, she never set eyes again on the Cinque Cento Florentine casket which had contained the love-letters of--the wrong woman.
Chapter XI.
The Tenth Customer and the Persian Ring
One of the last customers of any note who came to the Lambeth pawn-shop was a slender, wiry man with an Oriental face, not unlike that of Hagar herself. His countenance was oval, his nose aquiline in shape, and he possessed two dark sparkling eyes; also a long black beard, well trimmed and well kept. In fact, this beard was the neatest thing about him, as his dress--a European garb--was miserably poor, and the purple-hued cloth which he had twisted round his head for a turban was worn and soiled. He was nevertheless a striking figure when he presented himself before Hagar, and she examined him with particular interest. There was a gipsy look about the tenth customer, which seemed to stamp him as one of the gentle Romany. Even keen eyed Hagar was deceived.
"Are you of our people?" she asked, abruptly, after looking at him for a moment or so.
"I do not understand," replied the man, in very good English, but with a foreign accent. "What people you speak of?"
"The Romany--the gipsy tribes."
"No, lady; I no of dem. I know what they are--oh, yes, they in my own country as in dis."
"Where is your country?" demanded Hagar, vexed at her mistake.
"Iran; wheat you call Persia," replied the customer. "My name, lady, is Alee; I come from Ispahan dese two year. Oh, yes; a long time I do stop in dis town."
"A Persian!" said Hagar, looking at his swarthy face and delicate features. "I don't think I ever saw a Persian before. You are very like one of the Romany; not at all like a Gentile."
"Lady, I no Gentile, I no Christian; I am follower ob de Prophet. May his name be blessed! But dis not what I do come to speak," he added, with some impatience. "You give money on ring, eh!"
"Let me see the ring first," said Hagar, diplomatically.
Alee, as he called himself, slipped the ring in question off one of his slender brown fingers, and handed it to her in silence. It was a band of dead gold, rather broad, and set in it was an oval turquoise of azure hue, marked with Arabic letters in gold. The ring had the look of a talisman or amulet, as the queer hieroglyphics on the stone seemed the words of some charm, stamped thereon to avert evil. Hagar examined the ring carefully, as she had never seen one like it before.
"It is a queer stone," she said, after looking through a magnifying glass at the turquoise. "What do you want on it?"
"One pound?" replied Alee, promptly; "just for two--tree days. Eh, what! you give me dat?"
"Oh, yes; I think the ring is worth five times as much. Here is the money; I'll make out the ticket in your name of Alee. How do you spell it?"
The Persian took the ticket from Hagar, and in very fair English letters wrote down his name and address. Then with a bow he turned to leave the shop; but before he reached the door she called him back.
"I say. Alee, what do these gold marks on this stone mean?"
"Dey Arabic letters, lady. Dey a spell against de Jinns. 'In de name ob Allah de All-Merciful.' Dat what dem letters say."
"They say a good deal with a word or two," muttered Hagar. "Arabic must be something like shorthand. When do you want back the ring?" she asked, aloud.
"In two--tree days," replied the Persian. "Say dis week. Yes. Good night, lady; you keep dat ring all right. Yes. So."
Alee took himself out of the shop with another bow, and Hagar, after a further examination of the queer ring with its talismanic inscription, put it away on a tray with other jewels. She wondered very much if it had a story attached to it; and, having read the "Arabian Nights" of late, she compared it in her own mind to the ring of Aladdin. It looked like a jewel with a history, did that inscribed turquoise.
In the afternoon of the next day another Persian arrived. Hagar recognized him as such from his resemblance to Alee; indeed, but for the difference in expression the two men might have passed for twins. Alee had a soft look in his eyes, a melancholy twist to his mouth; while this countryman of his had a hawk-like and dangerous fierceness stamped on his lean face. He was dressed similarly to Alee, but wore a yellow turban instead of a purple one, and gave his name to Hagar as Mohommed; also, he took out of his pocket the pawn-ticket, which he handed to the girl.
"Alee, my countryman, he send dis," said he, in broken but very fair English; "he want de ring which he leave here."
"Why doesn't he come for it himself?" asked Hagar, suspiciously.
"Alee ill; him bery bad; he ask me to get de ring. But if you no gib me--why, I tell Alee; he come himself den."
"Oh, there is no necessity for him to do so," replied Hagar, getting the ring. "You would not have the ticket with you if everything was not square. Here is Alee's property. One pound and interest. Thank you, Mr. Mohommed. By the way, you are a friend of Alee?"
"Yis; I come to dis place when he come," replied Mohommed, passively, "him very great frien' of me. Two year we in dis land."
"Both of you speak English very well."
"Tank you, yes; we learn our Inglees in Persia for long time; and when we here we spike always--always. Goot-tay; I do take dis to Alee."
"I say," called out Hagar, "has that ring a story?"
"What, dis? I no know. Him charm against de Jinn; but dat's all. Goot-day; I go queek to Alee. Goot-day."
He went away with the ring on his finger, leaving Hagar disappointed that the strange jewel with its golden letters had not some wild tale attached to it. However, the ring was gone, and she never expected to hear anything more of it, or of the two Persians. A week passed, and no Alee made his appearance; so Hagar concluded that everything was right, and that he had really sent Mohommed to redeem the ring. On the eighth day of its redemption she was undeceived, for Alee himself made his appearance in the shop. Hagar was surprised to see him.
The poor man looked ill, and his brown face was terribly lean and worn in its looks. An expression of anxiety lurked in his soft black eyes, and he could hardly command his voice as he asked her to give him the ring. The request was so unexpected that Hagar could only stare at him in silence. It was a moment or so before she could find words.
"The ring!" she said, in tones of astonishment. "Why, you have it! Did not your friend Mohommed give it---"
"Mohommed!" cried Alee, clenching his hands; and the next moment he had fallen insensible on the outer floor of the shop. The single mention of the name Mohommed in connection with the ring had stricken the poor Persian to the heart. His entrance, his behavior, his fainting--all three were unexpected and inexplicable.
Recovering from her first surprise, Hagar ran to the assistance of the fallen man. He was soon revived by the application of cold water, and when he could rise Hagar, like the Good Samaritan she was, conducted him into the back parlor and made him lie down on the sofa. But