Tired of reading? Add this page to your Bookmarks or Favorites and finish it later.
|
|
"Gentlemen," said he, "you must pardon my agitation. This cry--
you need not seek its source--is one to which I am only too well
accustomed. I have been the happy father of six children. Five I
have buried, and, before the death of each, this same cry has
echoed in my ears. I have but one child left, a daughter,--she is
ill at the hotel. Do you wonder that I shrink from this note of
warning, and show myself something less than a man under its
influence? I am going home; but, first, one word about this
stone." Here he lifted it and bestowed, or appeared to bestow on
it, an anxious scrutiny, putting on his glasses and examining it
carefully before passing it back to the inspector.
"I have heard," said he, with a change of tone which must have
been noticeable to every one, "that this stone was a very
superior one, and quite worthy of the fame it bore here in
America. But, gentlemen, you have all been greatly deceived in
it; no one more than he who was willing to commit murder for its
possession. The stone, which you have just been good enough to
allow me to inspect, is no diamond, but a carefully manufactured
bit of paste not worth the rich and elaborate setting which has
been given to it. I am sorry to be the one to say this, but I
have made a study of precious stones, and I can not let this
bare-faced imitation pass through my hands without a protest. Mr.
Ramsdell," this to our host, "I beg you will allow me to utter my
excuses, and depart at once. My daughter is worse,--this I know,
as certainly as that I am standing here. The cry you have heard
is the one superstition of our family. Pray God that I find her
alive!"
|