with very little foreign accentuation, "at your
service."

"I have been recommended to come to you.
I am, as you have probably already recognised,
an Englishman, and I have some jewels for sale,
which it may, perhaps, suit you to buy."

"You have them with you?"

"Yes, they are here;" and George took out
his cherished case and placed it in Mr. Dieverbrug's
hand.

Mr. Dieverbrug opened the case quietly, and
walked with it towards the window. He then
took out the stones and held them to the light,
then taking from his waistcoat-pocket a small
pair of steel nippers, he picked up each stone
separately, breathed upon it, examined it
attentively, and then replaced it in the case. When
he had gone through this operation with all the
stones, he said to George:

"You are not a diamond merchant?"

"No, indeed!" said Dallas, with a half-
laugh; "not I."

'' You have never," said Mr. Dieverbrug, looking
at him steadfastly from under his bushy
eyebrows—- "you have never been in a jewel-
house?"

"In a jewel-house?" echoed George.

"What you call a jeweller's shop?"

"Never have been in a jeweller's shop? Oh
yes, often."

"Still you fail my meaning. You have never
been in a jeweller's shop as employé, as
assistant?"

"Assistant at a jeweller's — ah, thank you!
now I see what you're aiming at. I've never
been an assistant in a jeweller's shop, you ask,
which is a polite way of inquiring if I robbed
my master of these stones! Thank you very
much; if you've that opinion of me, perhaps I
had better seek my bargain elsewhere." And
George Dallas, shaking all over, and very much
flushed in the face, extended his hand for the
case.

Mr. Dieverbrug smiled softly as he said, " If
I had thought that, I would have bid you go
about your business at once. There are plenty
of merchants at Amsterdam who would buy
from you, no matter whence you came; but it is
my business to ask such questions as to satisfy
myself. Will you have back your diamonds, or
shall I ask my questions?"

He spoke in so soft a tone, and he looked so
placid and so thoroughly uncaring which way
the discussion ended, that George Dallas could
scarcely forbear laughing as he replied, "Ask
away!"

"Ask away," repeated Mr. Dieverbrug, still
with his soft smile. " Well, then, you are not a
jeweller's employé ; I can tell that by your
manner, which also shows me that you are not what
you call swell-mob-man—- rascal —- escroc. So you
come to me with valuable diamonds to sell; my
questions are. How do you get these diamonds?
Who are you?"

For an instant George Dallas paused in his
reply, while he felt the blood rise in his cheeks.
He next looked Mr. Dieverbrug straight in the
face as he said, " These were family diamonds. I
inherited them from my mother — who is dead—
and I was advised to come over here to sell
them, this being the best market. As to
myself, I am a literary man, a contributor to
newspapers, and an author."

"Ah, ha! you write in newspapers and
books? You are feuilletonist, author?" And
as Mr. Dieverbrug said these words, he took up
a stick which stood by the side of the fireplace
and thumped heavily on the floor. His thumping
seemed to awaken a kind of smothered
response from the regions below them, and before
George Dallas had recovered from his surprise
the door was opened, and an old gentleman of
fantastic appearance entered the room —- a very
little man, with an enormous head, which was
covered with a tight- fitting little skull-cap,
large eyes glaring out of silver-rimmed
spectacles, a sallow puckered face fringed with a
short stubbly white beard, a large aquiline nose,
and thin tight lips. Buttoning immediately under
his chin and reaching to his feet — no very long
distance— the little man wore a greasy red
flannel gaberdine dressing- gown, with flat
horn buttons in a row down the front, underneath
which appeared a dubiously dirty pair of
flannel stockings and bright red leather slippers.
With one hand the little man leaned on an ivory-
handled crutch stick; in the other he carried a
yellow-paper covered book — Tauchnitz edition
of some English author. As he entered the
room he gave a sharp, rapid, comprehensive
glance at George through his spectacles, made
him a deferential bow, and then took up his
position in the closest proximity to Mr.
Dieverbrug, who at once addressed him in Dutch
with such volubility that George, who had
managed to pick up a few words during his stay,
from the polyglot and others, failed to
comprehend one syllable of what passed between
them.

When they had finished their parley, during
which both of them looked at the diamonds and
then at George, and then waved their fingers
in each other's faces, and beat the palms of
their hands, and shrugged their shoulders as
though they never intended their heads to be
again seen, Mr. Dieverbrug turned to George,
and said, "This is my brother-in-law, Mr.
Schaub, who keeps the bookseller's shop
beneath us. He is agent for some English
booksellers and newspapers, and knows more about
authors than you would think. I should be
glad if you would have some talk with him."

"Glad I should have some talk with him?"
George Dallas commenced in wonderment; but
Mr. Schaub cut in at once:

"Ye-es! Vos glad should have tokes mit
eem! Should mit eem converse—  sprechen,
dis English author!"

"English author?"

"M-ja! m-ja! Wass him, der Schaub"—-
tapping himself in the middle of his greasy
breast with his ivory-handled crutch—  " a-gent
von Tauchnitz, Galignani, die London Times,
die Mercury, and von all. Wass der Schaub