Zillah regained her wits with an effort, and became as business-like as usual.
"Don't, please, think I'm asking idle and purposeless questions," she said. "Have you been long in London?"
"A few days only," answered the stranger, readily enough.
"Have you read of what's already called the Praed Street Murder in the papers?" continued Zillah.
"Yes—I read that," the stranger said, his face growing serious. "The affair of the old man—the pawnbroker with the odd name. Yes!"
"I'm the old man's granddaughter," said Zillah, brusquely. "Now, I'll tell you why I was upset by seeing your platinum stud. A solitaire stud, made of platinum, and ornamented with exactly the same device as yours, was found in our parlour after my grandfather's death—and another, evidently the fellow to it, was found in an eating-house, close by. Now, do you understand why I wished to speak to you?"
While Zillah spoke, the American's face had been growing graver and graver, and when she made an end, he glanced at Lauriston and shook his head.
"Say!" he said. "That's a very serious matter! You're sure the device was the same, and the material platinum?"
"I've been reared in the jewellery trade," replied Zillah. "The things I'm talking of are of platinum—and the device is precisely the same as that on your stud."
"Well!—that's mighty queer!" remarked the American. "I can't tell you why it's queer, all in a minute, but I do assure you it's just about the queerest thing I
