and fool, might serve as a handy instrument,
and be quietly dismissed, and sent away into
the country, or out of it somewhere, for a
small consideration, when done with. Yes,
this fellow—Bob Styles was his name—would
do very well. He was a great lout. Not that
I would trust him too far, or, indeed, at all,
as to my secret. What I wanted was confidential
manual help. So I sent for Bob
Styles, and bought him a new frock-coat and
highlows, and a drab hat, the same evening.
He grinned, and thrust his tongue in his
cheek, when he came into the room in his
new things. He was a precious lout. But he
would serve my purpose.

A mine—a burrow under ground—that was
the true and sensible means of getting at the
Great Prize. A contest with Chubb above
ground, was the very place where he had
calculated the grand assault would be made,
if at all; whereas, it was extremely unlikely
that he should have had the genius to foresee
that another genius might construct his plans
of attack entirely on the underground
principle.

I sold out stock in the Three per Cent.
Consols, where my little property was chiefly
invested; and having put myself in possession
of a few hundred pounds ready cash, I
commenced my operations. Bob Styles was a great
help to me. He ran about, carrying heavy
packages and boxes for me to No.—, * * *
Street, Hyde Park, where I had taken a house
as close as was prudent to the Crystal Palace.

The cellars were of course my grand field—
the dusky region of my arduous operations.
I had the entrance to the back cellar, which
was, in fact, the coal-cellar, so contrived by a
passage from the front cellar, fitted up with
my own hands, by means of some old wainscot
and planks, that the mind would presently
become confused as to the latitude of the back
cellar, and the point at which the burrow
beneath the earth was advancing. If any
conjecture could be formed at all, it would be
that it was in a straight line towards St.
Paul's; whereas it was accurately directed,
from " bearings " I had taken with a compass,
in a line with Mr. Chubb's "iron cage " in the
Exposition of the Industry of Nations.

Into the front cellars I made Bob Styles
convey all my delving, boring, and burrowing
apparatus. One of the tools (though he
seemed much puzzled with the shape of the
shovels) attracted his especial notice. It was
one of the probes—my own invention. "Be
this thing a squirt?" said he. The mistake
delighted me. "Yes, Bob," said I; "it is
to soften the earth as we proceed." He
said he thought " how it wor likely to be a
very good zoftener." What a lout he was!
But all the better. I should not omit that I
had thought it best just to tell him that I was
engaged by one of the Gas Companies to make
some investigations, in consequence of a
lawsuit with the parish, and he must not, therefore,
say a word of what we were about to any
soul breathing, or the company might lose the
action, and perhaps we should be sent to
prison for boring holes under-ground without
leave. This seemed to frighten Bob very
much. He swore never to say a word to
mortal man.

The earth that accumulated from the
borings we conveyed in bushel baskets into
the front kitchen, and shot it up in one corner.
As I did not wish to fill the cellar, especially
as I wanted room for my tools, machines, and
general apparatus for the whole business, I
sent Bob with a cart-load of it, as soon as it
amounted to that, in the dusk of the evening,
with orders to proceed to some unfrequented
spot in the suburbs, or where new houses were
being built, and, watching his opportunity
when nobody was near, tilt up the cart, and
shoot out the contents with as little noise as
possible. If spoken to, he was to say he was
one of Mr. Cubitt's men, and pretend to be
drunk.

I pass over the many difficulties and obstructions
which we surmounted. I fear I
did considerable damage to many a sewer,
gas, and water-pipe. We were now underneath
the carriage-drive in front of the South
Entrance.

Other difficulties occurred; but I will not
pause to particularise them; in fact, as I
approach the grand event of my narrative, I
feel such an excitement that my pen seems
to hurry me on with the record, rather than
to obey the direction of my fingers. The event-ful
night arrived, when with compass-box in
hand, and my plan before me, the result of the
calculation I made, showed that we were just
under the iron safe of the Illustrious Stranger.
So great was my joy, or rather excitement,
for it was too painful a pleasure to be termed
merely "joy," that I ran down to Bob, who
was still at work at the further end of the
burrow, and showing him the figures of my
sum—the quotient—cried out exultingly,
"We 've done it, my boy! The Gas Company
will gain their action."

"Glad to hear on 't," said he. He was too
stupid to be really excited at anything.

We had now to make an upward
movement. This was a nice process, as it would
not do to come abruptly upon the Diamond.
I was afraid to give a sudden blow to the
iron safe, or whatever was undermost in Mr.
Chubb's arrangement, lest it should disturb
the Koh-i-noor in its bed, or liberate some
safety-spring or cunning trap, that would
increase my difficulties. Upwards, therefore,
we worked, till gradually we arrived at a
rather hard, gritty, stony substance, the débris
of which looked like clay and sand that had
been baked into a sort of sandstone.

I ground my way up, and in a very short
time made a hole in the substance, and found
I had arrived at a hollow space. I cautiously
thrust my hand into the dark hole above
me, and felt about. I could feel nothing. I
thrust my arm up slowly, as high as the