In the thin fingers he found a small
sealed tube, filled with something that looked like particles of
nickel.
"Do you mind telling me what that is?" asked St. George.
Old Malakh's eyes, liquid and brown and very peaceful, met his own
without rebuke.
"Do you mean the gem?" he asked gently. "It is a very beautiful
ruby."
Then St. George saw upon the hand that held the sealed tube a ring
of matchless workmanship, set with a great ruby that smouldered in
the shadow where they stood. Olivia looked at St. George with
startled eyes.
"He was not wearing this when we first saw him," she said. "I
haven't seen him wearing it at all."
St. George confronted the old man then and spoke with some
determination.
"Will you please tell us," he said, "what there is in this tube, and
how you came by this ring?"
Old Malakh looked down reflectively at his hand, and back to St.
George's face. It was wonderful, the air of courtliness and urbanity
and delicate breeding which persisted through age and infirmity and
the fallow mind.
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