the inner room. He drew a long breath. "I—I happen to have one of the finest stones in England, Mr. Hart"
"Daresay! There are a good many of the finest stones in England about just now. And you want one of the finest prices in England for it too?"
"You are yourself something of a judge of diamonds."
"I am—something."
"Here is the stone. Examine it for yourself."
Mr. Tyrrel handed the stone to Mr. Hart. As he did so it was to be noticed that his hand still trembled. He mopped his brow as his visitor turned the stone over and over in his hands. His lips seemed parched, Mr. Hart took the stone to the door.
"Got a glass?" he asked.
Mr. Tyrrel hunted out a spy-glass. He seemed to have some difficulty in finding one. Mr. Hart fitted it into his eye.
"Not a very strong glass, this one of yours; I've seen stronger. But it's good enough to enable me to see that this is something like a diamond. What's the figure?"
Mr. Tyrrel moistened his lips. "Two thousand pounds."
"Too much!"
"It's dirt cheap, Mr. Hart. I've seen worse stones than that sold for ten thousand pounds. But I happen to be very much in want of ready cash."
"I don't deny that the stone's a good one. But it's in the rough, and it may cut up rough. And two thousand pounds is more than I care to pay for an ornament for a drawing-room, even though
