I had alighted, at about five o’clock on an autumn evening, from a train at the King’s Cross terminus of the Great Northern Railway, and was proceeding along the Euston Road, when, having half an hour to spare, I turned off to the right to enter Euston Station. As I passed under the heavy stone portico just to the south of this immense depôt, I observed a man about two yards in front of me, who, just as I noticed him, came to an abrupt halt and stooped down. So suddenly, indeed, did he do this, that I stumbled over him, and tendered an apology for what was not my error. As he regained his vertical position, he spoke to me, and said in a confidential tone: ‘Did you see that?’ I asked him what he meant. ‘Why, this diamond ring. I nearly trod on it. Just look here.’ And he showed me what was apparently a gold diamond ring; and then went on to say, that if I had seen it, I should have my share of the find; or that, as he was a poor man, and as it might arouse suspicion for the ring to be found in his possession, and since, as he could not get rid of it, it would be useless to him, he would sell it to me for a trifle. I was not at that time—owing, I suppose, to my ignorance of London ways—so cautious as I am now; and thinking, from the various government stamps upon the ring, that it was indeed a valuable one, I told him I would think about it, if the diamond were a good one. ‘Come up here,’ said he, pointing to some back street, ‘and let us see if it will cut glass.’ I walked with him in the direction he indicated, and with much coolness he tested the stone upon a shop-window. Surely enough, it made a deep incision in the glass. ‘Well,’ I said, feeling now tolerably convinced of the genuineness of the ring, ‘I would give you ten shillings for it, but I unfortunately have a few pence only in my pocket.’ ‘Ah, that’s a pity. Do you live far from here?’ ‘Yes,’ I replied; ‘some twelve miles at least.’ ‘Ah, well, there you are, you see; that’s a pity, because you are a gentleman, and the ring would be all right with you; but I am only a poor messenger—at this moment I am on one of my errands—earning a pound a week, and if I tried to sell it, people would suspect me. However, since you say you have not enough money, I will keep the ring and attempt to get rid of it. At anyrate, we’ll part friends. Come and have something to drink with me.’ I refused, for the man was not of a very attractive appearance, being dreadfully pock-marked and squinting in his right eye. So we said good-evening and separated, he to carry out his errand, I to walk on into Euston terminus. On relating the adventure to my friends, we came to the conclusion that the man was an impostor, and had purposely dropped the ring and stooped to pick it up immediately in front and for the sole edification of myself, evidently hoping that I should purchase it—probably a sham one—from him.