The clerk regarded Paul attentively, and, as he thought, a little
suspiciously.
"Does the ring belong to you?" he asked.
"No, to my mother."
"Where did she buy it?"
"She didn't buy it at all. She found it one day at Central Park. It
belongs to her now. She advertised for an owner, and examined the papers
to see if it was advertised as lost, but could hear nothing of the one
to whom it belonged."
"How long ago was this?"
"Two years ago."
"I will show this ring to Mr. Tiffany," said the clerk.
"Very well."
Paul took a seat and waited.
Soon Mr. Tiffany came up.
"Are you the boy who brought in the ring?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"You say your mother found it two years ago in Central Park?"
"Yes, sir."
"It is a valuable ring. I should be willing to buy it for two hundred
and fifty dollars, if I were quite certain that you had a right to
dispose of it."
"I have told you the truth, Mr. Tiffany," said Paul, a little nettled at
having his word doubted.
"That may be, but there is still a possibility that the original owner
may turn up."
"Won't you buy it, then?" asked Paul, disappointed, for, if he were
unable to dispose of the ring, he would have to look elsewhere for the
means of buying out Barry's street stand.
"I don't say that; but I should want a guaranty of indemnity against
loss, in case the person who lost it should present a claim.
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