My executors, by instruction would pay the note--and no dollar from the mine, no single grain of gold, not an ounce of quartz, would Markel ever get his hands on, and my wife and children would be saved.

That is--" His words ended abruptly--with a little gasp.

Jimmie Dale had opened the cash box and was dangling the necklace under the light--a stream of fiery, flashing, sparkling gems.
Then Wilbur spoke again, a hard, bitter note in his voice, pointing his hand at the necklace.
"But now, on top of everything, you have brought me disgrace--because you broke into his safe to-night for THAT?
He would and will accuse me.
I have heard of you--the Gray Seal--you have done a pitiful night's work in your greed for that thing there." "For this ?" Jimmie Dale smiled ironically, holding the necklace up.
Then he shook his head.

"I didn't break into Markel's safe for this--it wouldn't have been worth while.

It's only paste." "PASTE!" exclaimed Wilbur, in a slow way.
"Paste," said Jimmie Dale placidly, dropping the necklace back into its case.