# The Specimen Case/The Marquise Ring

XVIII The Marquise Ring
Afternoon, Hink. Give my love to the dear Duchess of Dontcherknow, not forgetting little Lady Marjorie as well."
Mr. Hink walked out in dignified silence as no suitable retort occurred to him. They were a common lot of fellows with whom he had to associate at the shop, having no soul above the counter, and jealous of his obvious superiority. Early closing days found them preferring such plebeian resorts as Epping, or the Oval, to Hyde Park and the promenades of the West End. Mr. Hink went his own way, and after one or two unsuccessful attempts he tried no more to lead their footsteps into selecter paths. On the whole he was not sorry; such companions would have compromised his own appearance in the haunts of fashion.
Mr. Hink, it will be seen, had tastes above his station. Fate had cast him behind the retail counter and given him nothing in return but the doubtful admiration of the young lady in the cashier's box and thirty-five shillings a week. The congenial sphere, his proper place indeed, he felt sure would have been among the haute monde—to borrow a phrase frequently on his lips. He was getting on, too. Only three weeks ago had he not mingled with the brilliant throng at a hospital bazaar (closing day), and direct from the jewelled hands of the Countess of Camberwell received a cup of tea? Had he not, with easy grace, requested the Lady Sybil to put in another piece of sugar, and when that astute ​maiden had complied and coquettishly demanded an additional sixpence for the same, had he thought the coin ill spent?
He decided to go into Hyde Park and watch the carriages for an hour. He was confident of recognising some leaders of society; it was an occupation in which he had found much satisfaction.
"Excuse me, governor," said a voice at his elbow, "but could you kindly tell me what a marquis's ring is like?"
Mr. Hink turned sharply. A very shabby, questionable-looking individual had taken a seat upon the same form, and was looking up from a copy of the Morning Post which he held.
Mr. Hink did not like shabbily dressed people, nor was he disposed to enter into conversation with questionable-looking men. He had a high idea of his own astuteness and never listened to the simple wayside tale. But only that morning a workingman, in asking him the time, had addressed him as "mate," and now to be called even "governor" by a person who plainly looked up to him, was some emollient. Further, the clean new copy of the paper in the ragged man's hands, and the inquiry itself, stirred his curiosity.
"Marquise, you mean, don't you?" he said. "A marquise ring."
"Marquise it is, I daresay," replied the other, "but I'm not much of a reader myself." He passed the newspaper to Mr. Hink, indicating a certain spot where the following advertisement appeared:—
"Twenty Pounds Reward
{{para indent||"Lost between Belgrave Square and Hyde Park or in the Park, a diamond (10) and ruby (12) marquise ​ring, with pearl centre. The above reward will be paid to the finder on returning the ring to 55, Belgrave Square, S.W."}}
"Well," remarked Mr. Hink jocularly, after looking at the date of the paper and seeing that it was that day's, "you may be in time yet. I should go and have a look for that twenty quid if I were you."
The shabby man made no reply, but folding the paper looked away into the distance with a somewhat cryptic expression that roused Mr. Hink's curiosity all the more. What did it mean—the question put to him, the clean new paper in the hands of a tramp, and that quiet, half-amused little smile?
"Look here," he said sharply; "what are you driving at? You haven't—you don't mean to say that you've found it?"
"Governor," replied the man with simple candour, "whether I've found it or not I don't know, but I've found something. I shall have to trust someone, and it may as well be you." With these words he took a dirty screw of paper out of a pocket, and unwrapping it placed a marquise ring of dazzling brilliance in Mr. Hink's hand.
"Of course it's it," said that gentleman after a single glance. "Any cuckoo could see that. Look here; ten diamonds, there they are; twelve rubies, pearl centre."
"So they are, governor, if you say so," said the tramp, replacing the ring in its covering and returning it to his pocket. "But strike me clean if I could tell a ruby from a radish."
"Well," said Mr. Hink enviously, "you are in luck! My godfathers, but you are!"
The man in luck favoured him with a half-bitter, half-pitying smile. "So it seems," he replied; "but when I ​went to Sunday-school, a good many years ago, I remember a bit out of a book, 'Things are not always what they seem.' Do you think," he went on with a sudden passionate vigour, "that if a bloke like me went up to that toff's house I should ever see the beginning of those twenty thick uns? Garn!"
"How do you make that out?" demanded Mr. Hink.
"I walked past the house half-an-hour ago and see two of them bloomin' yellow-'ammers 'oppin' about the 'all door. If I go do you think that the noble toff what lives there will receive Bill Humphreys in his front drorin'-room? Rats! Them same yellow-claws will possess themselves of this bauble and then chuck me out into the road and call the police if I don't go quiet."
"Well, let them," said Mr. Hink, urging defiance. "You'd be on the right side. You've got nothing to be afraid of the police for."
"That I most particularly have," replied Mr. Humphreys fervently. "It's only a small matter of leaving a wife and family chargeable to the parish, but if it's a question of calling in the police I emphatically do not wish to be there."
"Oh!"
"It's quite right, governor," said the other pensively, "and to a gentleman and a man of the world I do not hesitate to admit the fact. Why, just before I spoke to you I was half on my way to chuck the bloomin' thing into the Serpentine to save being got into any trouble through it. Straight I was."
"What, throw twenty pounds away!" exclaimed Mr. Hink, aghast. "You must be going light-headed through sudden joy. How did you come to find it?"
"I was walking along there," pointing towards Stanhope Gate, "this morning, when I chawnst to see something among a swept-up heap o' dust. I picked it out ​and it was a glove, what you might call a young lady's glove by the littleness of it. Then as I held it—without ever thinking of looking inside, you understand—I felt something 'ard, and there it was, down a finger. There may be somethin' 'anging to this, I thought to myself, so I went along to the reading-room down Holborn. Took me a long time to find that reward, too, for knowing that it must have been lost yesterday I started with the Star and such like."
"Shows what a mug you must be," commented Mr. Hink with condescending familiarity. "You might have known to look first in the Morning Post for anything connected with society."
"You might," agreed the other with simple faith. "That's where you have the head of me in a business like this, throughout. Well, I did find it, howsoever, and I bought one, so as to have it, you see. Then I made my way to that address, and at the sight of it my 'art felt like four-ale what's been left out overnight."
"Did you happen to keep that glove?"
Mr. William Humphreys felt leisurely first in one pocket and then in another. Yes, he had happened to keep it, though evidently without attaching any importance to it, and finding it he handed it over for inspection. Plainly it had scarcely been worn, and, except for the dust still clinging to it, it was yet clean and dainty. Belgrave Square! Mr. Hink took it almost reverentially, and felt convinced, in spite of its temporary contamination, that he could detect a faint aristocratic perfume lingering even then. "Size six-and-a-half," he remarked. "Made in Paris. Soft as velvet and fragrant as arose. Ah! it wouldn't need any more than this to tell me the class we're dealing with."
"You're right all along, governor," said the tramp admiringly; "but it knocks me."
​"Here, what did you say the address was?" exclaimed Mr. Hink, on another thought. "55, Belgrave Square! Why, that's the Earl of Saxmundham, the father of the Ladies Irene and Gladys Felix-Toft, the two great beauties of the season. And this is the glove of one of them, and the ring! I see exactly how it happened. Driving in the Park yesterday in their victoria, the Lady Irene or the Lady Gladys for some purpose takes off her glove and lays it for a moment on her lap. Then it slips unnoticed among the folds of the rug. A movement, and it is thrown unseen into the roadway, to be swept aside by a dustman and picked up by you. Oh, my aunt! Why is luck parcelled out in slabs to the unworthy?"
"Like a book," murmured Mr. Humphreys with quiet enthusiasm, "Like a bloomin' book, throughout."
Neither spoke again for a few moments. "What you need," at length remarked Mr. Hink, looking sideways, "is a reliable intermediary to carry through the affair for you."
“A smart, upstanding, dressy nob,” agreed the one of the two who certainly was not "dressy." "A social equal, so to speak, who could go up to the front door and say, without any this or that, 'My business is with the earl, forthwith.' Perhaps even produce his card if there was any hank."
Mr. Hink had cards. He possessed a shilling complete guide to etiquette, and knew exactly what to do it he attended a levee or found a member of the Royal Family among his guests at dinner. The cards were strictly on the lines laid down, with the exception of a slight economy effected by using imitation copper-plate. "I'll tell you what," he said. "Make it a deal and I'll go myself."
"Governor," replied Mr. Humphreys, after a rather ​awkward pause, "I won't say that the idea hadn't occurred to me also."
"Well," urged Mr. Hink, as the other again relapsed into a tranquil silence. "What's the matter with it?"
"When I found that ring," said the tramp impressively, "I didn't think much, either one way or the other; but when I read that in the paper I felt for the moment that there wasn't no holding myself in. Then I saw the house and so on, and reviewed my past life and future prospects. 'It's no go, Bill,' I says and I was clean doused. Now meetin' you has put fresh 'art into me, but, sooner than act the jay and lose it all, I'd chuck it straightway into the Serpentine and walk away, hungry and ill-clad, blind my blinkers if I wouldn't!"
"What's the talk about losing it?" demanded the gentleman indignantly. "D'ye think I'd run off with it?"
"No, governor, I don't. Because, for that matter, I should walk with you as far as the door. But how do I know who you are? How do I know that you aren't 'and in glove with the toff at that address? You've got all the style of it, and you seem to know who he is. Where should I be if you went in and didn't come out again; or, being a friend of his, got him to let you out by the back door?"
"I don't know him, reely I don't," protested Mr. Hink earnestly. "I'd act the fair thing."
"No offence, governor," replied the tramp; "but there's no denying that oncet you go inside with the ring you've got the whip 'and of me, so to speak, and my little all goes with you. Share and share alike is my idea—but no. Without any ill-will, governor, it'd be too bitter."
The bitterness was already overflowing from Mr. Hink's cup. Ten pounds, and the Earl of Saxmundham, with, possibly, a graceful word to the Lady Irene or the ​Lady Gladys! "I'll tell you what," he said desperately. "You shall come on and stand in fair sight of the house all the time, only don't make yourself too conspicuous. Then I've got a matter of two pounds that you can have now, in advance."
"It's off," replied the other shortly. "Off without any mutual offence. I've thought of another way. There's an old Mo. what I know of, and although he mayn't give more than five or six quid as the breaking-up value, what it is 'ull be sure."
"Sure!" groaned Hink, "what can be surer than the money I put right into your hand?" He took out his purse and counted the contents. There were the thirty-five shillings which he had that day received, and, being a careful, prudent soul, almost two sovereigns more. "Here's nearly four pounds, and six more the minute I come out of the house. Don't stand in your own silly light."
"I don't like it, straight I don't," said Mr. Humphreys, frankly; "but you have a trustful face. There's twenty quid on the one side unless this earl has gone broke in the meanwhile, and what on the other? Well, throw in your watch and chain and that pin you’re wearing, if it is to be, and remember that we've both 'ad a mother wonst."
Mr. Hink would have protested strongly against making the acquaintance of an earl, and possibly other members of the noble family, in so unadorned a state, but a symptom of restlessness on his companion's part was sufficient to reduce him to immediate compliance, and after making the exchange they walked—the ragged man, by arrangement, a few yards behind—to Belgrave Square.
Mr. Hink had a firm theoretical belief in the policy of honesty—nor did it seem probable that a request to ​be let out by a back way after he had received the reward would work very satisfactorily, apart from the indignity of such a proceeding. But as he walked to Belgrave Square there was one glorious vision that for a moment tempted him. If only—but in view of the fact that all his available money, to say nothing of the other articles, was sunk in the venture, it was a very formidable "if only"—if only he was in a position to hand over the jewel to the Lady Irene or the Lady Gladys and lightly brush away the suggestion of a reward, begging her to treat the incident as the willing service of a gentleman to a lady, to what might it not lead? A graceful letter of thanks at the very least—permission to call?—an invitation to lunch? The possibilities were more dazzling than the glitter of the marquise ring when flashed in the sunlight; but, the empty purse, the empty coming week. That vision had to fade.
The earl was at home and a footman took the proffered card, but Mr. Hink did not like his manner. He did not like the way he looked at him, he did not like the way he looked at the card, less still did he like the way he told him to wait in the hall, and when he returned and asked Mr. Hink's exact business, that gentleman positively disliked him.
"Have the goodness to inform his lordship," he replied with becoming haughtiness, "that I have called in connection with his advertisement in the Morning Post, and that I must hand over the ring to him personally."
This had the desired effect, and it is to be placed on record that the ring gained for Mr. Hink the happiness of seeing and conversing with the Right Hon. the Earl of Saxmundham for at least five minutes, although the expression of felicity can only be accepted in a courtesy sense. His lordship came into the hall and invited Mr. Hink to follow him into his study. Furthermore, to Mr. ​Hink's way of thinking the noble lord did not look like an earl, did not speak like an earl, and certainly was not dressed like an earl.
"What is it you wish to see me about. An advertisement? Some mistake, surely."
"The ring, you know, my lord," prompted the caller. "The ring advertised for—which I have in my possession."
The earl took the newspaper and read the advertisement. "A mistake, evidently," he said, with no pretence of being interested, and he actually looked as though he expected the young man to leave at once.
"But, my lord," protested Mr. Hink, "doubtless the ring is the property of the Lady Irene or the Lady Gladys, who have not yet informed you of their loss."
"My daughters do not wear rings of that description," and the words and the look accompanying them were as coldly aristocratic as Mr. Hink could wish for even from a duke.
"Then some inferior member of your household," was the hopeful suggestion, somewhat blankly given. "Surely your lordship will not object to have inquiry made in so important a matter."
The inquiry was made with no satisfactory result, and the end of it found the earl and Mr. Hink looking rather awkwardly at one another, neither quite knowing the terms on which to reopen the conversation.
"I can only suggest," remarked the earl languidly at last, "that possibly a printer has made a mistake in the address. It might be worth your while to go to the office of the paper."
"I will certainly do so," replied the young man, "and I am grateful to your lordship for the idea. It is highly necessary for me to find the owner soon, as, unfortu​nately, I advanced every penny I had with me to the finder."
"Oh," said the earl, looking at Mr. Hink with a slight access of interest. "I understood that you had found it yourself. Might I be permitted to see the ring for a moment?"
It was permitted with alacrity, and anxious to afford a clue to the Lady Irene or the Lady Gladys even at this eleventh hour, Mr. Hink launched into a full account of the whole transaction.
"I am afraid, my good fellow, that you have been imposed upon," said his lordship, when he had listened patiently. "The particular operation is, I believe, known as 'telling the tale.' The ring is merely a flashy imitation and practically worthless."
"What, 'telling the tale'!" exclaimed the unhappy dupe, scarcely able to realise the possibility. "To me! D'ye mean to say that I've been 'ad?" The upheaval of his feelings may be gathered from the fact that in conversation with a peer of the realm he actually allowed himself to say "'ad!"
"If you left anything of value with the man it certainly looks as though you have been had," replied the earl, not without a sense of placid enjoyment.
"Three pounds seventeen and nine, a watch and chain and a gold horseshoe pin," enumerated Mr. Hink. "But the whole thing seems impossible, my lord," he cried, anxious to convince himself. "The matter came about quite naturally, without any pressing on my part—in fact, he did not wish me to come."
"That is the way it is generally worked, I have observed."
"But the glove, you forget the glove." He almost implored the earl to reconsider his opinion on the strength of the glove.
​"What of that? There is no difficulty in buying a pair of lady's gloves, surely?"
"And the advertisement," continued Mr. Hink, still in a befogged frenzy. "The ring answers exactly to the description."
"I am afraid that you are rather a dense young man," said the earl impatiently. "The ring answers to the advertisement, of course, because the advertisement was written to fit the ring. For a few shillings it is as easy for anyone to send an advertisement to a paper as it is to buy a brass ring. But the glove—'m, yes; the glove was decidedly neat. I should prophesy that your friend has a career before him."
If any of "the fellows from the shop" had chanced to be in Belgrave Square a minute later they would certainly have had to admit, despite their general scepticism, that Mr. Hink was walking out of the Earl of Saxmundham's house by the front door. But on second thoughts Mr. Hink was not sorry to miss them at that moment, and, fortunately enough that chaste neighbourhood was quite deserted, for not even a solitary vagrant was then in sight.
Muswell Hill, 1900.