Sixteen Years Earlier,....

"Race you to the hedges," shouted one eight-year-old to the other. And they were off, Edith's dress flapping against her little legs as she ran across the lawn. Tailing her was Robin. As he overtook her, Edith tried blocking him with her right arm. He thrust it down and sped ahead with a joyful shout. A moment later, just as he reached the hedge and would have slowed himself, a cat ran out, and with another yell, though not the victorious kind, he lurched head-long into the bushy wall. Edith collapsed in a heap of shrieking laughter. Robin extracted himself from the hedge with some effort and sat next to her, grumpily plucking tiny twigs and leaves from his clothes and hair. The hedge showed a fresh, boy-sized cavity which Edith could not lay her eyes on without crowing and flopping back onto the grass in hysterics. 

Once recovered, she quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks and said,

"Do not worry, Mama won't be mad. Oh, you're hurt! Let's get you to Mrs. Hornby. She'll treat those scratches!" Robin had a few lights cuts on his face from the collision. They walked back to house, Edith's arm wrapped around his shoulders. He was smiling again.

Chapter 3

In keeping with his promise to interview the gentlefolk of the area on the subject of the mysterious gem, Robin had commenced his efforts by paying a visit to Edith. After he had gone, she convened with her mother in the parlor from which, for the last five years, Mrs. Ockley had scarsley ventured but to dine and sleep.
Edith's mother was a very slight, elderly woman. Recently, her eyes had clouded over with cataracts. For this reason, Edith could often be found reading aloud or practicing the piano forte for her mother's amusement (most reliably when there was some social event taking place which her mother would otherwise have happily attended). Mrs. Ockley greatly appreciated this entertainment as before her eyes went out, she had been in the habit of paying frequent visits around the neighborhood and walking through the garden. Though her sister, who lived only three miles down the road, would call weekly and other neighbors also paid regular visits, there was now a great deal of time in which Mrs. Ockley had to be contented with those impressions that reached her in the parlor by the window. The maid often recounted the village gossip for her keen ears. Birds sometimes sat on the window sill and recited for her their honest poetry. Edith's company and personal reflection, however, were the most highly valued comforts.
Edith spoke of the extraordinary event of the previous evening.
"I wonder, my girl, why your cousin was given leave to traipse all around the county with it. The whole area must now be aware of his carrying it. Any miscreant would think himself foolish not to seize such an opportunity."
"You're right." Edith sat considering these notions. What else could be done to discover the gem's backround? If the inquiry became less intimate- say, an advertisement in the Times- a large number of individuals claiming to have lost an identical ruby could be expected to surge into the village with grandiose tales and performances intended to evince rightful ownership. That was not an option. Should it be sent to London to be investigated by the police? Perhaps, if Robin was unsuccessful, it could be handed over to the authorities, or a private investigator employed. However, the stone could not have suddenly trans-located from a vault or jewelry case. It had been either intentionally or accidentally left in the Engles' kitchen; intentionally or accidentally tucked by someone into the pastry. Seeing that the entire batch of fiddlehead tortes had been overdone save the one containing the ruby, it also seemed plausible to Edith that the certain torte could have been removed from the oven and "fiddled with" while the rest continued to bake.
What worried her mother also began to worry Edith, and she decided to send Robin a letter advising him to cache the ruby in a safe place whilst occupied by the business of uncovering its origins. He would have to change his approach and thoroughly describe the gem to those he queried. A giant ruby, after all, was a rare enough thing not to be mistaken or forgotten. It could not be safe for him or the stone to travel around as such an unguarded pair. She penned Robin her thoughts as Mrs. Ockley listened intently to the meaningful scribble.

Chapter 2.5

He collapsed onto the bed, an induced bleariness softening the threats of his unsure future. What's done is done, he told himself. Sensitivity had been temporarily shed through swills of liquor, but his mind was still trapped in the undertow of a certain subject. It was now by habit that he dwelt upon the problem. Day and night, thinking.
He had been there for weeks before identifying an opportunity, an innocent, public occasion for the task to move into its next phase. It could have been easier, too. His jaw clenched as he remembered how simple the plan was meant to be. Go to the county, find the family, and bring back the son of twenty-four years. But the surname of this family, the title disguising one's true identity, and the only clue for such an undertaking was permanently gone from his head. When it had been told to him, there were bottles being passed and loot being divided. He remembered the evening well. A mean fire with meat roasting, the sky spread over with orange and pink. Worth had patted his shoulder and motioned with his head as if to say "come with me", so he had followed along the shore a few yards, and there the business was laid out .
"You're the only one I would consider asking to go. You, unlike the rest of the crew, have wits as well as guts. I can imagine you leading your own expedition one day, commanding a crew, securing a real fortune... If you accept my offer and carry through, you'll possess all you need, except for that bit of luck, to become just as rich and feared a captain as I."
He was garuanteed two shares of whatever was taken while he was away. In addition to this, once returned, if successful, he would be given command of the Sapphire, a recently captured sloop.
"Ughf, three sheets, I was," grumbled Jasper as he kicked off his boots and pulled the blankets around himself. Many nights since had he spent with his head in his rough hands, cursing the surname he could no longer remember. He had located the nearest town, gone through the registry, but the space in his skull once occupied by the single, crucial word had collapsed. There was only a horrific blank.
"Take this," his Captain had said, holding out the large ruby, "and when you find the right man, give it to him. Tell him it's time to join Captain Adam Worth. But, don't let him out of your sight. You'll bring him regardless of what he thinks he wants. If you fail to return with him or with the stone, I'll find you and you'll die- squealing like a pig. " Captain Worth fixed him with a stare, grave and deadly, as the the ruby was passed between them, the offer accepted.
"Damn you, Worth," Jasper whispered in the dark. His familiarity with the Captain gave little reason to doubt that vengeance would be madly sought should Jasper break with his end of the bargain. Worth's threats, when unheeded, were always brought about- usually with more extravagant brutality than promised. No, Jasper would have to stay and wait. The ruby had already attracted someone he could easily suspect. He had heard the young man's keen interest expressed in tones of a most familiar rapture, and if he failed to locate the right man, any one near his twenty-fourth year would need do. Zeal for pretty prizes could only serve to convince his master, and if his master was convinced, his fate was secure.

Good happens,......

It's never the wrong time to be grateful. In this whirl of worrying, so many "if"'s and "but"'s tossing us around, there is a surface at which an awareness of life's comedy, peace, and beauty can be breathed. When I am calm and patient inside, things actually happen. Good happens......
There is a vietnamese man who covers my real nails with artificial ones (I don't bite them this way). His English is not there yet, but tonight, after only a few casual questions, I learned that he is a brand new father with a month-old baby girl. This man, who has never said a word to me without being queried first, recently experienced something so pivotal and wondrous, and though I have seen him three times in the last month and a half, I never would have known if I hadn't been calm enough to volunteer a conversation and patient enough to wait for the words to form. How glad I am with choosing to be open and observant rather than sequestered by my own concerns. Just when I start feeling hopelessly misanthropic, something like this happens, my heart gushes with compassion and I love people again.