"But—mine was white, and—this is red."
Mr. Fungst's glance was fixed upon the jewel, gloating on its beauties. "So mine was white. Then it went red. Now it has gone off bang! Oh, the lovely stone!"
Mr. Brooke laughed softly. "I am afraid that your Grace must permit me to withdraw my offer of twenty thousand pounds, or even of ten. The diamond, beautiful though it is, belongs to a rather more speculative class of goods than I quite care to dabble in."
The Duchess still held the jewel in her hand. She had never for a moment removed her glance from it. It seemed to exercise upon her gaze a sort of fascination.
"It's alive!"
"Alive?"
Mr. Brooke came nearer. Mr. Fungst craned forward. They were a curious trio. The Duchess's tones were low and eager.
"Something seems to be moving within."
"So there does." In Mr. Brooke's voice there was a sound as of laughter.
"It's changing colour." Mr. Fungst spoke almost with a gasp.
"For ever! Look out!" Mr. Brooke spoke just in time. There was a little crack. The diamond had disappeared. Three pairs of eyes were still bent upon her Grace's hand. But it was empty—the diamond had gone.
"It's gone off bang!"
"What do you mean?" exclaimed the Duchess. "What has happened?"
