"I shall take it to the bank," I said. "I do not like the
responsibility."
"It is very unsafe," was the warning of this cautious fellow. "Why, Sir!
any of these swells, these pickpockets, might meet you, run against
you,--so!" said Hay, suiting the action to the word, "and, with the
little sharp knife concealed in just such a ring as this I wear, give a
light tap, and there's a slit in your vest, Sir, but no diamond!"--and
instantly resuming his former respectful deportment, Hay handed me my
gloves and stick, and smoothed my hat.
"Nonsense!" I replied, drawing on the gloves, "I should like to see the
man who could be too quick for me. Any news from India, Hay?"
"None of consequence, Sir. The indigo crop is said to have failed, which
advances the figure of that on hand, so that one or two fortunes will be
made to-day. Your hat, Sir?--your lunettes? Here they are, Sir."
"Good morning, Hay."
"Good morning, Sir."
I descended the stairs, buttoning my gloves, paused a moment at the door
to look about, and proceeded down the street, which was not more than
usually thronged. At the bank I paused to assure myself that the diamond
was safe. My fingers caught in a singular slit. I started. As Hay had
prophesied, there was a fine longitudinal cut in my waistcoat, but the
pocket was empty. My God! the thing was gone. I never can forget the
blank nihility of all existence that dreadful moment when I stood
fumbling for what was not.
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