Ida no sooner found herself alone than she took from her wardrobe a black dress, a long cloak, a bonnet and black veil. She quickly donned them, then stole into the corridor, locking the door after her, and putting the key in her pocket.

If she could get out of the house and into the grounds unobserved, all would be well. Fortune favored her; no one was in sight.

She made her way to the railway station, and bought a ticket for Washington. On the train was quite a number of people whom she had met before. But they did not recognize her with the veil pulled so closely over her face.

The world seemed to stand still; but her heart seemed to beat wildly, as she thought of it all.

At last Washington was reached, and for a minute she stood irresolute as she stepped upon the platform of the depot. Then she timidly crossed over to where a policeman stood.

"I—I would like to be directed to a pawn-broker's store, if—if you know where there is one," she said.

The guardian of the peace looked at her suspiciously.

It was a part of his business to believe all strangers dishonest until he found them otherwise.

"Are you so much in need of money as to have to resort to that?" he asked, taking in the stylish make and fine texture of the clothes she wore.

"Yes," she answered, timidly.

The policeman pointed to a store a couple of blocks further up, and Ida started for the place indicated, after stopping to inquire when the train returned to where she had come from.

He gave her the information, and watched her curiously until she was out of sight.

"It is evident that she has come to Washington simply for the purpose of pawning something. As soon as I reach the other end of my beat I will make it my business to step into Uncle Samuel's and ask what she has disposed of. It is just as well for me to know."

Meanwhile, Ida hurried quickly on her errand.

The pawn-broker's clerk glanced up impatiently as the door opened and the dark-clad figure glided in.

"I—I should like to see the proprietor, to ask if he will advance me a sum of money on some diamonds."

"Have you got them with you?" asked the man, carelessly.

"Yes," said Ida, faintly; "but can't I see the proprietor?"

"You can deal with me just as well," he answered.

After a moment's hesitation, Ida produced the package from her pocket, and unwrapping it, disclosed the magnificent diamonds.

A cry of surprise broke from the clerk's lips. In all the years of his life he had never seen anything so grand as the diamond necklace. But, like all shrewd men in his calling, he carefully suppressed the cry of astonishment.

"How much do you want to realize on this?" he asked, indifferently.

"One thousand dollars," said Ida, faintly.

"Ha! ha! ha!" he laughed. "That's pretty good, when you know full well that you couldn't realize one-half that sum on them."

"But I shall have to!" cried Ida.

The man closed his hand down over the lid.

"How did you come by these?" he asked.

He saw the slender figure shiver.

"You have no right to ask me anything like that," she replied.

"Probably not," returned the man; "still, when we don't ask, we generally do a great deal of guessing. But to end the matter, I will advance you a couple of hundred on them."

"I must have a thousand dollars," repeated Ida. "If it were not absolutely necessary for me to raise the money on them, I should not have brought them here."

"Two hundred is a nice little sum," said the man. "If you refuse to take that, I might take it into my head to hold you on suspicion, and call in a policeman. Bear in mind, I will give you that amount of money without asking you where they came from. A policeman would want to know the whys and wherefores of the whole thing."

"I—I must raise a thousand dollars on them," she reiterated, grasping the jewel-case.

The man's bluff had not worked.

"That's all I'll give; but father might accommodate you with a little more," he added, touching a little bell.

The summons was instantly answered by a short, stout little man who looked as if he had overheard the conversation.

A quick glance passed between them.

"Here is something for you to decide," went on the young man. "This lady tells me that she wants a certain amount for these diamonds."

"I must have a thousand dollars," interposed Ida, "and if you can not advance me that amount, do not detain me, please; I must look elsewhere."

Again the lid was thrown back, and the casket exposed to the elder man's gaze. He fairly caught his breath as the blazing jewels met his eye. A wolfish expression leaped into his face.

"I think I can accommodate the lady," he said, blandly. "My motto is to please the ladies even if I have to strain a point to do so."

He placed his hand in his pocket and brought forth a roll of bills.

"How will you have the money—in tens or twenties?" he asked.

"It does not matter much," said Ida.

He handed her a roll of bills.

"You can count it, and see if the amount you wish is there," he said.

She counted it over with trembling hands. Yes, there was just a thousand dollars there.

"You will take great care of the diamonds?" she asked, eagerly.

"Certainly—certainly. They are as safe in my hands as though they were in your own keeping, lady."

She put the money in her pocket, and hurried from the place.

"Abraham! Abraham!" cried the old man, excitedly, as soon as the street door had closed upon her, "our fortune is made! This necklace is worth at least a cool seventy-five thousand if it's worth a penny, and we have got it in our possession for a paltry thousand dollars!"

"I knew the diamonds were very fine, and worth a fortune," replied the young man; "but I did not know they were worth as much as that. What do you intend to do with them, father? You will have to give them up to her if she claims them."

"Do you think I'm a fool!" exclaimed the elder man, angrily. "She'll never lay eyes on those stones. Depend on that!"