 The assistant
was out, and the pawnbroker sat in the small room beyond, with the door
half open, reading a newspaper. He had read the financial columns,
glanced at the foreign intelligence, and was just about to turn to the
leader when his eye was caught by the headline, "Murder in
White-chapel."

He folded the paper back, and, with a chilly feeling creeping over him,
perused the account. In the usual thrilling style it recorded the
finding of the body of a man, evidently a sailor, behind a hoarding
placed in front of some shops in course of erection. There was no clue
to the victim, who had evidently been stabbed from behind in the street,
and then dragged or carried to the place in which the body had been
discovered.

The pockets had been emptied, and the police who regarded the crime as
an ordinary one of murder and robbery, entertained the usual hopes of
shortly arresting the assassins.

The pawnbroker put the paper down, and drummed on the table with his
fingers. The description of the body left no room for doubt that the
victim of the tragedy and the man who had sold him the diamond were
identical. He began to realize the responsibilities of the bargain, and
the daring of his visitor of the day before, in venturing before him
almost red-handed, gave him an unpleasant idea of the lengths to which
he was prepared to go. In a pleasanter direction it gave him another
idea; it was strong confirmation of Levi's valuation of the stone.

"I shall see my friend again," said the Jew to himself, as he looked up
from the paper. "Let him make an attempt on me and we'll see."

He threw the paper down, and, settling back in his chair, fell into a
pleasing reverie. He saw his release from sordid toil close at hand. He
would travel and enjoy his life. Pity the diamond hadn't come twenty
years before. As for the sailor, well, poor fellow, why didn't he stay
when he was asked?

The cat, still dozing, became aware of a strong strange odor. In a lazy
fashion it opened one eye, and discovered that an old, shrivelled up
little m