in the heart of the hill.

Platzoff's first act was, by means of a long crook, to draw down within
reach of his hand a large iron lamp that was suspended from the roof by
a running chain. This lamp he lighted from the hand-lamp he had brought
with him. As soon as released, it ascended to its former position, about
ten feet from the ground. It burned with a clear white flame that
lighted up every nook and cranny of the place. The sides of the cave
were of irregular formation. Measuring by the eye, Ducie estimated the
cave to be about sixty yards in length, by a breadth, in the widest
part, of twenty. In height it appeared to be about forty feet. The floor
was covered with a carpet of thick brown sand, but whether this covering
was a natural or an artificial one Ducie had no means of judging. The
atmosphere of the place was cold and damp, and the walls in many places
dripped with moisture; in other places they scintillated in the
lamplight as though thousands of minute gems were embedded in their
surface.

In the middle of the floor, on a pedestal of stones loosely piled
together, was a hideous idol, about four feet in height, made of wood,
and painted in various colours. In the centre of its forehead gleamed
the great Diamond.

"Behold!" was all that Platzoff said, as he pointed to the idol. Then
they both stood and gazed in silence.

Many contending emotions were at work just then in Ducie's breast, chief
of which was a burning, almost unconquerable desire to make that
glorious gem his own at every risk. In his ear a fiend seemed to be
whispering.

"All you have to do," it seemed to say, "is to grip old Platzoff tightly
round the neck for a couple of minutes. His thread of life is frail and
would be easily broken. Then possess yourself of the Diamond and his
keys. Go back by the way you came and fasten everything behind you. The
household is all a-bed, and you could get away unseen. Long before the
body of Platzoff would be discovered, if indeed it were ever discovered,
you would be far away and beyond all fear of pursuit. Think! That tiny
stone is worth a hundred and fifty thousand pounds."

This was Ducie's temptation. It shook him inwardly as a reed is shaken
by the wind. Outwardly he was his ordinary quiet, impassive self, only
gazing with eyes that gleamed on the gleaming gem, which shone like a
new-fallen star on the forehead of that hideous image.

The spell was broken by Platzoff, who, going up to the id