CHAPTER XXVI.
THE PAWNBROKER’S OFFICE.
A dull, dreary place was this pawn-office; its narrow counter all grim with use; its walls studded from floor to ceiling with miserable looking bundles; its boxes partitioned off like cells in a prison, where the sensitive and inexperienced sheltered themselves while taking their last degrading steps on a downward career. All these things struck Ross with a chill, for there is something fearfully pathetic in poverty when it takes a form like that.
With a sense of strange humiliation, this refined gentleman glided into one of those secret boxes, into which want shrinks from the human gaze with a keener sense of shame than guilt often knows. His breath came short, and he asked, hoarsely, if there was yet a possibility of redeeming the articles which the two crumpled tickets represented.
The pawnbroker, a heavy, dark man, whose hands were as unclean as his practices, took the tickets, saw the date, and handed it back with a gruff shake of the head.
“Forfeited long ago. You ought to have seen that, if you know how to read.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Ross, too anxious for resentment. “Of course, I was aware of the date; but is it possible to obtain these articles?”
“Obtain them? No; they are sold.”
Ross still held the rejected tickets in his hand, which shook a little.
“Sold; but there must be some record. Is it not possible to find them?”
“I don’t suppose it could be done. Whoever got those two things had a bargain that they won’t be likely to give up. The shawl was real Injy; worth a thousand dollars, if it was worth a cent; and the coral was a lovely tint, like a tea-rose, and carved beautifully—not to be matched in this country. Bargains! Both great bargains!”
“I am willing to pay their full price—double that—”
“Ha! What is that? Double?”
“Yes; that is not more than I am willing to give.”
“Double-double! That would be two—say three thousand. Is that the correct sum—three thousand? A good thing! A good thing, if you get them!”
The craving wretch spoke gleefully, rubbed his palms together, and eyed Ross as if he longed to devour him.
Through all his anxiety, Ross felt the disgust such greed was sure to inspire, and answered him sharply.
“I will give two thousand for the shawl, and two hundred for the coral—not a cent more; but that can be settled with the possessor of the articles, who will probably be content with their full value. If you will inform me who the purchasers are, it is all I desire at present.”
“Who they are? Oh, yes! Such greenness belongs to us. Young in the business, you know. Haven’t cut our eye-teeth. You’re likely to get at them articles without me, very; but how are you going to do it, that’s the figure? How are you going to do it?”
“Then you will not help me?”
“Why that is just what you and I are bargaining about. Say three thousand, and I’m on hand.”
“Three thousand for articles not worth more, by your own showing, than a third of the amount, and for which you only advanced fifty dollars. Surely, you cannot be in earnest.”
“In earnest? Well, you will find that I shall not abate one dollar. A thing is worth what one can get for it. You want this shawl and coral for something more than their worth, and so make fancy stock of them. You understand they are my fancy stock, and for any good they will be to you, I am the holder.”
“But they are sold, you admitted that.”
“Yes; but my books are not sold—and without them, how can these things be traced? Oh, never mind! you will come to my terms, people generally do!”
Ross took his hat from the counter, and turned to leave the box, in which he had stood while conversing with this man. The pawnbroker eyed him furtively, with a crafty smile on his lips. He was not disheartened, for the anxiety in those deep-set eyes was too apparent for doubt. The man would make any sacrifice rather than lose the articles he sought.
“You will think better of it, sir,” he said, leaning over the counter, and following the retreating man with an oily smile. “Remember, I am always to be found here.”
Ross lifted his hat and disappeared, making no other reply. For a moment, disgust of the man overpowered even the strong wish that had brought him to that miserable place.