and he picked up the object. Something those kids had been playing with. A bit of red glass out of a piece of cheap jewellery. Not half bad for a fake. He would put one over on Maggie when he turned in for supper. Certainly this was the age of imitation. You couldn't buy a brass button with any confidence. He put the trinket in his pocket and continued on, soon to forget it.
At six he was off duty. As he was leaving the precinct the desk sergeant called him back.
"Got change for a dollar, an' I'll settle that pinochle debt," offered the sergeant.
"I'll take a look." The policeman emptied his coin pocket.
"What's that yuh got there?"
"Which?"
"The red stone?"
"Oh, that? Picked it up on the sidwalk. Some I-talian kids dropped it as they skedaddled."
"Let's have a look."
"Sure." The policeman passed over the stone.
"Gee! That looks like real money. Say, they can do anything with glass these days."
"They sure can."
A man in civilian clothes—a detective from headquarters went up to the desk. "What you guys got there?"
"A ruby this boob picks up off'n the sidewalk," said the sergeant, winking at the finder, who grinned.
