pounds. It is a great price, a very great price, to offer for one diamond. It is because I have the other stone just like it, and I wish to make a pair. I will show the other stone to the lady. She will see I tell the truth." Mr. Fungst began groping in the inner pocket of his coat. He produced a little leather bag. "It is in this bag." He was holding the bag between the fingers of his right hand. Suddenly a curious expression began to creep over his features. "It is very funny," He hesitated. "It is in this bag." He began to untie the cord which bound the neck of the bag. In the midst of the operation he paused. He felt the contents of the bag with the fingers of either hand. "It is—it is very funny." His face assumed a curious leaden hue. "It is in this bag."
Mr. Brooke advanced.
"What's the matter, Fungst?"
"It—it is nothing. It—it is very funny. The stone is in this bag." He continued to untie the cord. It was all untied. With peculiar circumspection he opened the neck of the bag. He peeped within. He continued to peep within, as if to explore its depths were a work of time. He staggered backwards.
"Mein Gott! It's gone! I'm robbed!"
"Robbed!" cried Mr. Brooke. He took the bag out of Mr. Fungsfs unresisting hand. There was a strange expression on his face; there was a curious glitter in his eyes. As he peeped into the bag he laughed, not pleasantly. "Not robbed, my Fungst—not robbed. The diamond's here." He turned the bag upside down upon the table. There came
