Dunham examined it as he walked down the street, too perplexed with his own tumultuous thoughts to remember his usual trolley.  He slipped the ring on his finger and let it catch the morning sunlight, now shining broad and clear in spite of the hovering rain-clouds in the distance.  And gloriously did the sun illumine the diamond, burrowing into the great depths of its clear white heart, and causing it to break into a million fires of glory, flashing and glancing until it fairly dazzled him.  The stone seemed to be of unusual beauty and purity, but he would step into the diamond shop as he passed and make sure.  He had a friend there who could tell him all about it.  His step quickened, and he covered the distance in a short time.

After the morning greeting, he handed over his ring.

“This belongs to a friend of mine,” he said, trying to look unconcerned.  “I should like to know if the stone is genuine, and about what it is worth.”

His friend took the ring and retired behind a curious little instrument for the eye, presently emerging with a respectful look upon his face.

“Your friend is fortunate to have such a beautiful stone.  It is unusually clear and white, and exquisitely cut.  I should say it was worth at least”—­he paused and then named a sum which startled Dunham, even accustomed as he was to counting values in high figures.  He took the jewel back with a kind of awe.  Where had his mysterious lady acquired this wondrous bauble which she had tossed to him for a trifle?  In a tumult of feeling, he went on to his office more perplexed than ever.  Suspicions of all sorts crowded thickly into his mind, but for every thought that shadowed the fair reputation of the lady, there came into his mind her clear eyes and cast out all doubts.  Finally, after a bad hour of trying to work, he slipped the ring on his little finger, determined to wear it and thus prove to himself his belief in her, at least until he had absolute proof against her.  Then he took up his hat and went out, deciding to accept Judge Blackwell’s invitation to visit his office.  He found a cordial reception, and the Judge talked business in a most satisfactory manner.  His proposals bade fair to bring about some of the dearest wishes of the young man’s heart, and yet as he left the building he was thinking more about the mysterious stranger who had disappeared from the Judge’s office the day before than about the wonderful good luck that had come to him in a business way.

They had not talked much about her.  The Judge had brought out her hat—­a beautiful velvet one, with exquisite plumes—­her gloves, a costly leather purse, and a fine hemstitched handkerchief, and as he put them sadly away on a closet shelf, he said no trace of her had as yet been found.

On his way toward his own office, Tryon Dunham pondered the remarkable coincidence which had made him the possessor of two parts of the same mystery—­for he had no doubt that the hat belonged to the young woman who had claimed his help the evening before.