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Various

"The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 03, No. 16, February, 1859"

I have not the diamond. I do not know the thing. I am poor. I
am honest. Suspicion destroys me!"
"As you will find, should I be longer troubled by your denials."
He was inflexible, and, having exhausted every artifice of innocence,
wiped the tears from his eyes,--oh, these French! life is their
theatre,--and remained quiet. It was getting dark. There was no gas in
the place; but in the pause a distant street-lamp swung its light dimly
round.
"Unless one desires to purchase, allow me to say that it is my hour for
closing," he remarked, blandly, rubbing his black-bearded chin.
"My time is valuable," I returned. "It is late and dark. When your
shop-boy lights up"----
"Pardon,--we do not light."
"Permit me, then, to perform that office for you. In this blaze you may
perceive my companions, whom you have not appeared to recognize."
So saying, I scratched a match upon the floor, and, as the
_sergent-de-ville_ and the _gendarme_ advanced, threw the light of the
blue spirt of sulphurous flame upon them. In a moment more the match
went out, and we remained in the demi-twilight of the distant lantern.
The _marchand des armures_ stood petrified and aghast. Had he seen the
imps of Satan in that instant, it could have had no greater effect.
"You have seen them?" I asked. "I regret to inconvenience you; but
unless this diamond is produced at once, my friends will put their seal
on your goods, your property will be confiscated, yourself in a dungeon.


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