ringe of white hair at the
back and sides, and was covered, when he went abroad, with a beaver hat,
very fluffy and much too tall for him, and which, once upon a time, had
probably been nearly as white as his hair, but was now time-worn and
weather-stained to one uniform and consistent drab. Round his neck he
always wore a voluminous cravat of unstarched muslin fastened in front
with an old-fashioned pearl brooch, above which protruded the two spiked
points of a very stiff and pugnacious-looking collar. A strong alpaca
umbrella, unfashionably corpulent, was his constant companion. Mr.
Madgin's whiskers were shaved off in an exact line with the end of his
nose. His eyebrows were very white and bushy, and could serve on
occasion as a screen to the greenish, crafty-looking eyes below them,
which never liked to be peered into too closely. The ordinary expression
of his thin, dried-up face was one of hard, worldly shrewdness; but
there was a lurking bonhommie in his smile which seemed to imply that,
away from business, he might possibly mellow into a boon companion.

Mr. Madgin had to wait a few minutes this morning before Lady
Chillington could receive him. When he was ushered into her sitting-room
he was surprised to find that she and Miss Hope were not alone; that a
plainly-dressed man, who looked almost as old as Mr. Madgin himself, was
seated at the table. After one suspicious glance at the stranger, Mr.
Madgin made his bow to the ladies and walked up to the table with his
bag of papers.

"You can put all those things away for the day, Mr. Madgin," said her
ladyship. "A far more important matter claims our attention just now. In
the first place I must introduce to you Sergeant Nicholas, many years
ago servant to my son, Captain Chillington, who died in India.
(Sergeant, this is Mr. Madgin, my man of business.) The Sergeant, who
has only just returned to England, told me yesterday a very curious
story which I am desirous that he should repeat in your presence to-day.
The story relates to a diamond of great value, said to have been stolen
from the body of my son immediately after death, and I shall require you
to give me your opinion as to the feasibility of its recovery. You will
take such notes of the narrative as you may think necessary, and the
Sergeant will afterwards answer, to the best of his ability, any
questions you may choose to put to him." Then turning to the old
soldier, she added: "You will be good enough,