house in Kensington forthwith, at a much
lower rent than I had it for (on a lease of
three years), reserving the right of locking up
the back cellar, on account of the choice old
wine I had there. I went into lodgings in
the vicinity of Somers Town; and while
here, I made several other attempts at selling
the diabolical Diamond, which I forbear to
particularise. It had already brought me to
the brink of ruin; yet I was no nearer to
success, although by this time I had actually
reduced my terms to the pitiful sum of fifty
thousand pounds, or less.

I was soon brought to my last shift for
money to go on with, as the very nature of my
position obviously required a constant outlay
—a common case with all great undertakings.
I was compelled to part with my turquoise. It
cost me a severe pang. And soon afterwards,
my large cairngorm seal, my watch and its
gold chains, and all my other elegancies had
to follow;—all, all my pretty ones, had to be
immolated at the shrine of this Moloch of
Light, whose baleful lustre had led me on to
destruction, and, I may now say—to despair.

The end draws near. I pass over several
intermediate interviews, each more unsatisfactory
than the last, and now bring my
confession down to the actual purchaser.

I had retreated to an attic—a good front
one, having a flat roof and two windows—as
it was absolutely necessary not to seem in
want. Two gentlemen, of the Hebrew
persuasion, visited me here, one day; having
heard, though I never could make out by
what means—their fine scent, I suppose—
that I had a diamond of good water to dispose
of cheap. I told them that the Diamond I
possessed was of immense value, though not
to me; but they should have it a great
bargain, as I had a particular need for a few
thousand pounds, having been a considerable
loser at the last Derby.

Directly the two Jews got it into their
hands, they ran with it to one of the windows,
close up against the glass, each holding on by
an end, with their eyes close down to it.
Then they ran, with a sidelong shuffle, to
the other window—never letting go—then
back again, in the same crab-like way, to the
other window; and so on several times.
After turning it about in all possible ways,
now close to the light, now up in one corner
in the dark, they came up to me, and told
me that it was a very nice stone, a very
pretty stone, and worth money—but it was
not a diamond!

At this vile and nefarious announcement, I
was so astonished that at first it superseded
the rage and indignation I very quickly felt,
and expressed. I snatched it from their
clutches, locked it up, and bade them instantly
leave my apartments. They bore all my
reproaches very meekly, and went on talking,
and explaining, and reasoning; and though I
refused to listen to them, they would not go
out of the room. There they stayed, haggling
and tormenting, seven hours, till being utterly
exasperated and disgusted with them, with
myself, and with the infernal Stone, I sunk
down on my bed, offering to take a thousand
pounds for it.

As they were going out at the door, one of
them lingered behind, and fixing his black
vulture's eye upon me, said, in a hoarse
voice, between that of an old-clothes' man
and one who "has a devil " and is about to
cast it out,—"Take care!" (here he held up
one long dirty finger, which had a long
dirty-pointed nail at the top) "take care of yourshelf!
—shell the stone before the Gas Company
arrest you!" He took one end of his neckerchief
—held it up straight and tight in the
air—and blowing out his cheeks, he made
a hideous strangling face, and shut the
door.

I closed my eyes, and remained, if not
insensible, yet quite unable to move for the
next hour. I had been betrayed by the
villain, Bob Styles. He had told all he knew,
and the Jews had made out enough of the
rest to hang me. I endeavoured to spring up,
intending to leave my lodgings that very
moment, but my limbs refused their office.
I was all streaming with a dew of dismay.
My powers were paralysed. I squeezed
my eyelids together, and clasping my hands
tightly on my breast, lay there awaiting my
fate.

All was silent, and continued so during the
rest of the day. "Oh, that infamous Bob
Styles!" thought I, "was this the good fortune
the gipsy foretold for him, while he allowed
my uncle's turnips to be stolen? Could
nothing else but the destruction of his
wronged master's favourite nephew satisfy
his remorseless villany!" I also called to
mind the story I had heard of the great
Indian Prince who once had the fatal Stone,
and in order to hide it, had it built up in the
middle of a wall, and then killed the mason.
If I had done—but Heaven forgive me!

While I thus lay thinking and bemoaning
myself, and wondering if I should be well
enough to effect my escape in time, a gentle
rap sounded at my door. I listened. Another
very gentle rap—and then the door opened—
and a venerable Jew, very old, with a long
dark gaberdine, and a large grey beard
flowing down it, slowly entered the room,
making me a salutation with one hand. He
had small dark eyes, with overhanging
bushy eyebrows, a large handsome forehead,
a great nose, wore a thick gold ring with an
engraved red cornelian in it, and had an air
of mildness and dignity, mixed with caution
and commiseration.

"My tear," said he, " I am come to do you
shervice—I speak at once to the point, my
tear. I am come about the Stone."

I sat up on the bed. Approaching with
slow step, the venerable man looked at me
a moment with a parental air, and then
seated himself on a chair by the bedside.