occasion. He talked of precious stones
and finally of his own, declaring that he had a connoisseur's eye for
a fine diamond, but had seen none as yet in America to compete with a
specimen or two he had in his own cabinets. Her eye flashed at this
and, though she said nothing, he felt sure that her presence at Mr.
Ramsdell's house would be enlivened by her great jewel.

So much for Mr. Grey's attitude in this matter up to the night of the
ball. It is interesting enough, but that of Abner Fairbrother is more
interesting still and much more serious.

His was indeed the hand which had abstracted the diamond from Mr. Grey's
collection. Under ordinary conditions he was an honest man. He prized
his good name and would not willingly risk it, but he had little real
conscience, and once his passions were aroused nothing short of the
object desired would content him. At once forceful and subtle, he had at
his command infinite resources which his wandering and eventful life had
heightened almost to the point of genius. He saw this stone, and at
once felt an inordinate desire to possess it. He had coveted other men's
treasures before, but not as he coveted this. What had been longing
in other cases was mania in this. There was a woman in America whom he
loved. She was beautiful and she was splendor-loving. To see her with
this glory on her breast would be worth almost any risk which his
imagination could picture at the moment. Before the diamond had left
his hand he had made up his mind to have it for his own. He knew that it
could not be bought, so he set about obtaining it by an act he did
not hesitate to acknowledge to himself as criminal. But he did not act
without precautions. Having a keen eye and a proper sense or size and
color, he carried away from his first view of it a true image of the
stone, and when he was next admitted to Mr. Grey's cabinet room he
had provided the means for deceiving the owner whose character he had
sounded.

He might have failed in his daring attempt if he had not been favored
by a circumstance no one could have foreseen. A daughter of the
house, Cecilia by name, lay critically ill at the time, and Mr. Grey's
attention was more or less distracted. Still the probabilities are that
he would have noticed something amiss with the stone when he came to
restore it to its place, if, just as he took it in his hand, there
had not risen in the air outside a weird and wailing cry which at once
seized upon t