The air of the small shop grew heavy with the odor of soiled clothing, cheap, highly scented soap and spilled talcum powder. The ladies had given up the search and were wandering about, looking at books, when the searching party came at last upon the three large pigskin bags from the British Isles.
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“There is something to intrigue you!” exclaimed Angelo. “And see! They are all tightly locked.”
Kay King’s eyes shone. He had bid in these bags at a rather high figure. He was hoping that his judgment regarding their contents had been correct.
“Let me try these.” He rattled a huge bunch of keys. Not one of them would open the bags. “Oh well,” he smiled, “one may pick his own locks.” With skill born of ripe experience he opened the locks with a bit of twisted wire.
“Now!” He breathed deeply. “Now!”
They all crowded around. A wide-mouthed bag flew open, revealing its contents. At once an exclamation was on every lip. Not one of them all but knew on the instant that Kay had made an exceedingly good buy. The bag was packed to the very top with the choicest of wearing apparel. Indeed, not one of them all had worn such rich garments. A man’s outfit included shirts of finest silk and softest woolens, suits of broadcloth and shoes of rarest quality.
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The second bag, though varying somewhat in its contents, matched the first in quality.
It was the third bag that set them gasping. For in this one the owner had packed with tender care the articles dearest to his heart. An ivory toilet set mounted with gold, a costly present from some dear friend; a brace of gold-mounted pistols; fountain pens; paper knives, elaborately carved; an astonishing collection of rare articles. And at one side, carefully wrapped in a swathing of silk, were three oval frames of beaten gold. Petite Jeanne’s fingers trembled as she unwrapped them and revealed, one after another, the portraits of a beautiful lady, a handsome boy and a marvelous girl, all dimples and golden hair.
“Oh!” She breathed deeply and the breath was half a sob.
More was to come. Having taken up an unframed picture, she studied it for a space of seconds. Then, as her trembling fingers let the picture fall, her slender form stiffened and her face went white as she said in words that seemed to choke her:
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“You can’t sell these things. You truly can’t.”
“Why can’t I?” Kay challenged. He had not looked into her white face.
“Because—” She put out a hand to steady herself. “Because they belong to a friend of mine. That is he,” she said, holding up the picture, “and that,” pointing to a signature at the bottom, “is his name.
“He—he came over on the boat with me. He—he was very, very kind to me. Helped me over the hard places.
“To sell out these would be a sacrilege.
“Sell them to me!” she pleaded, laying a hand on Kay’s arm. “I’ll pay you twice what you gave for them. Please, please do!” She was all but in tears.
She could not know the bargain she appeared anxious to drive. Only Weston and Kay King knew. They knew that in all their pinched and poverty-stricken lives they had never before made such a find; that the bags and their contents were worth not twice but ten times what Kay had paid for them.
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And only Angelo, who had accidentally caught sight of her bankbook, knew that for the sake of a friend she had known only on a short voyage, she was willing to spend her all.
“Wha—what will you do with them?” Kay moistened dry lips.
“I—some way I’ll find him and give them to him. And if—if he’s dead I’ll find her.” She pointed to the beautiful lady in the gold frame. “I—I’ll find her and them.” She nodded toward the other portraits.
Kay was not one who measured out charity in a glass and served it with a spoon. “Then,” he said huskily, “you may have them for exactly what I paid—fifteen dollars.”
Without another word, he snapped the bags shut one by one.
A long silence followed. Merry stood this as long as she could; then, seizing a long strand of narrow golden ribbon that had fallen from the trunk, she dashed round and round the group, encircling them all in this fragile band. Then, with a deft twitch, she thrust herself within the band.
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