"Certainly," the little curate answered, smiling. "I'm accustomed to
taking them off. They're always noticed. They've been kept in the
family ever since the siege, as a sort of valueless heirloom, for
the sake of the picturesqueness of the story, you know; and nobody
ever sees them without asking, as you do, to examine them closely.
They deceive even experts at first. But they're paste, all the same;
unmitigated Oriental paste, for all that."

He took them both off, and handed them to Charles. No man in England
is a finer judge of gems than my brother-in-law. I watched him
narrowly. He examined them close, first with the naked eye, then
with the little pocket-lens which he always carries. "Admirable
imitation," he muttered, passing them on to Amelia. "I'm not
surprised they should impose upon inexperienced observers."

But from the tone in which he said it, I could see at once he had
satisfied himself they were real gems of unusual value. I know
Charles's way of doing business so well. His glance to Amelia meant,
"These are the very stones you have so long been in search of."

The Scotch lassie laughed a merry laugh. "He sees through them
now, Dick," she cried. "I felt sure Sir Charles would be a judge
of diamonds."

Amelia turned them over. I know Amelia, too; and I knew from the
way Amelia looked at them that she meant to have them. And when
Amelia means to have anything, people who stand in the way may just
as well spare themselves the trouble of opposing her.

They were beautiful diamonds. We found out afterwards the little