ence of the diamond was all that troubled him. That brought him at
times to the point of vertigo. Had Mr. Grey recognized and claimed it?
If so, he, Abner Fairbrother, must remain James Wellgood, the waiter,
indefinitely. This would require more belief in his star than ever he
had had yet. But as the moments passed, and no contradiction was given
to the universally-received impression that the same hand which had
struck the blow had taken the diamond, even this cause of anxiety left
his breast and he faced people with more and more courage till the
moment when he suddenly heard that the diamond had been found in the
possession of a man perfectly strange to him, and saw the inspector pass
it over into the hands of Mr. Grey.

Instantly he realized that the crisis of his fate was on him. If Mr.
Grey were given time to identify this stone, he, Abner Fairbrother, was
lost and the diamond as well. Could he prevent this? There was but one
way, and that way he took. Making use of his ventriloquial powers--he
had spent a year on the public stage in those early days, playing just
such tricks as these--he raised the one cry which he knew would startle
Mr. Grey more than any other in the world, and when the diamond fell
from his hand, as he knew it would, he rushed forward and, in the act of
picking it up, made that exchange which not only baffled the suspicions
of the statesman, but restored to him the diamond, for whose possession
he was now ready to barter half his remaining days.

Meanwhile Mr. Grey had had his own anxieties. During this whole long
evening, he had been sustained by the conviction that the diamond of
which he had caught but one passing glimpse was the Great Mogul of his
once famous collection. So sure was he of this, that at one moment he
found himself tempted to enter the alcove, demand a closer sight of the
diamond and settle the question then and there. He even went so far as
to take in his hands the two cups of coffee which should serve as his
excuse for this intrusion, but his naturally chivalrous instincts again
intervened, and he set the cups down again--this I did not see--and
turned his steps toward the library with the intention of writing her a
note instead. But though he found paper and pen to hand, he could find
no words for so daring a request, and he came back into the hall, only
to hear that the woman he had contemplated addressing had just been
murdered and her great jewel stolen.

The shock w