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Ida smiled as she lifted the casket on to her knee and pressed the spring. The ornaments were in their places, and from their velvet bed glistened in streams of many-colored fire. As he looked, Glasgow drew his hand down his face, fearful lest Ida should see the eager gleam in his eyes. He bent over and took up one article after another, twisting and turning them so that the electric lights might fall upon the facets and fill them with a blaze of liquid glory. For Glasgow knew there was not the faintest doubt as to the genuineness of these stones. Nor had he the faintest doubt that she knew where they came from. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Ida the exact truth.
Then caution and his long training came to his assistance and he paused. After all, the girl was a stranger to him, and her apparent candor might be only intended to deceive. Besides, a pretty scheme was beginning to evolve itself in his mind.