As long as Mark had the diamond pin in his possession, the vicinity of such a fellow meant peril¹. He decided² that he had better lose no time in delivering the pin to Mrs. Loring. He had told Florence that he would call the next day, but really there was no reason why he should not deliver it at once.

 

About three o'clock he called a cab and directed the driver to drive to No. 1001? Euclid Avenue. The distance was somewhat more than a mile, and in fifteen minutes he found himself at his destination.

 

"Shall I wait for you?" asked the hackman.

 

"No; I may be in the house some time."

 

He paid for the cab and rang the doorbell.

 

"Is Mrs. Loring at home?" asked Mark of the servant who answered the bell.

 

"Yes, sir, but I don't know if she will see you."

 

"Tell her that I come from Mr. Swan of New York."

 

"She will see you," said the servant returning after a short absence.

 

Mark was ushered³ into the reception room, and in a few minutes a pleasant-looking woman of middle age entered. She seemed surprised when her glance rested upon Mark.

 

"Surely you are not Mr. Swan's messenger?" she said.

 

"Yes, madam."

 

"And you—have brought the pin?"

 

"Here it is," said Mark, producing it from his pocket.

 

Mrs. Loring eagerly opened the casket and uttered an exclamation⁴ of delight.

 

"It is beautiful—just what I wanted," she said.

 

"Mr. Swan said he thought he knew your taste."

 

"Did he mention the price?"

 

"A thousand dollars. Here is the bill."

 

"I shall not dispute the price, for I have perfect confidence in Mr. Swan. But—isn't it strange that he should have selected so young a messenger?" she continued, regarding Mark with curiosity.

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