"How do you account for it?" asked the clerk. "They were given my mother years since, by a rich lady who was a good friend of hers. She has never had occasion to wear them." Mrs. Simpson smiled significantly. "The boy has learned his story," she said. "I did not give you credit for such an imagination, John Cavanaugh." "My name is Grant Thornton, madam," said our hero, gravely. Five minutes later two men entered the store. One was a policeman, the other the head of the firm. When Grant's eye fell on the policeman he felt nervous, but when he glanced at the gentleman his face lighted up with pleasure. "Why, it's Mr. Clifton," he said. "Grant Thornton," said the jeweler, in surprise. "Why, I thought--" "You will do me justice, Mr. Clifton," said Grant, and thereupon he related the circumstances already known to the reader. When Mrs. Simpson found that the boy whom she had selected as an easy victim was known to the proprietor of the place, she became nervous, and only thought of escape. "It is possible that I am mistaken," she said. "Let me look at the pearls again." They were held up for her inspection. "They are very like mine," she said, after a brief glance; "but I see there is a slight difference." "How about the boy, madam?" asked the elder clerk. "He is the very image of my errand boy; but if Mr. Clifton knows him, I must be mistaken. I am sorry to have given you so much trouble. I have an engagement to meet, and must go." "Stop, madam!" said Mr. Clifton, sternly, interposing an obstacle to her departure, "we can't spare you yet." "I really must go, sir. I give up all claim to the pearls." "That is not sufficient. You have laid claim to them, knowing that they were not yours. Officer, have you ever seen this woman before?" "Yes, sir, I know her well."