“Certainly,” replied Jaspar, who remembered having seen an ornament of this description on the finger of Emily.

“Will you describe it to me, if you please?”

But Jaspar had reckoned without his host.  The details of a piece of jewelry were matters entirely foreign to his taste.  However, he succeeded in giving a description, which, from its general terms, might have applied to one mourning ring as well as another.

“Is this the one?” asked Dalhousie, with an anxiety which he could scarcely conceal, as he produced a ring.

“That is it,” replied Jaspar, confidently; and the jewel did bear some resemblance to that worn by Emily.

“But where did you obtain this?”

“I must insist on the most inviolable secrecy.”

“Certainly, certainly,” said Jaspar, eagerly.

“I will disclose the particulars only on the condition that you pledge yourself never to reveal my agency in the matter; for it would compromise my character.”

“Very well.  I pledge you my honor,” replied Jaspar, impatiently.  “You took it from the corpse of the lady in black.”

“I did, and you must be aware that such an act would subject me to inconvenience, if known.”

“Don’t be alarmed; your secret is safe.”

“But are you sure this is the ring worn by your niece?”

“It looks like it;” but Jaspar was perplexed with a doubt.  He bethought himself that it was only in a casual glance he had observed Emily’s ring.  He had never examined it, and, after all, this might not be the one.  There was certainly nothing strange in any lady dressed in black wearing a mourning ring.  Again he turned the ring over and over, and scrutinized it closely.  His finger touched a spring, and the plate flew up, disclosing a small lock of gray hair, twined around the single letter D.

“I will swear to it now,” exclaimed Jaspar, in a tone which betrayed the malicious joy he felt at the discovery.  He was perfectly satisfied now of the identity of the ring.  It never occurred to him that D stood for any other name than Dumont.

“This appears to be decisive evidence,” replied Dalhousie.  “Your niece, then, must be the person brought down by the Dragon.”

“Without doubt.”

“As this matter, then, is settled to your satisfaction—­”

“Sir!” exclaimed Jaspar.

“I beg your pardon,” resumed Dalhousie, with a supercilious air; “I only meant that your mind was satisfied—­relieved from a painful anxiety.”

“A very painful anxiety,” replied Jaspar.

“I understand, sir, you own a large plantation.”

“Well.”

“Perhaps you need an overseer?”

Jaspar acknowledged that he did need an overseer.

“I should be happy to make an engagement with you,” said the other, in complaisant tones.

“I don’t think you would suit me.  You are too genteel, by half,” returned Jaspar, bluntly.