The seaman laid his cigar in the tray, where it expired in a little puddle of tea, and, undoing his coat, cautiously took from his waist a canvas belt In a hesitating fashion he dangled the belt in his hands, looking from the Jew to the door, and from the door back to the Jew again. Then from a pocket in the belt he took something wrapped in a small piece of dirty flannel, and, unrolling it, deposited on the table a huge diamond, whose smouldering fires flashed back in many colors the light from the gas. The Jew, with an exclamation, reached forward to handle it, but the sailor thrust him back. “Hands off,” he said grimly. “None of your ringing the changes on me.” He tipped it over with his finger-nail on the table from side to side, the other, with his head bent down, closely inspecting it. Then, as a great indulgence, he laid it on the Jew’s open palm for a few seconds. “Five hundred pounds,” he said, taking it in his own hands again. The pawnbroker laughed. It was a laugh which he kept for business purposes, and would have formed a valuable addition to the goodwill of the shop. “I’ll give you fifty,” he said, after he had regained his composure. The seaman replaced the gem in its wrapper again. “Well, I’ll give you seventy, and risk whether I lose over it,” continued the pawnbroker. “Five hundred’s my price,” said the seaman calmly, as he placed the belt about his waist and began to buckle it up. “Seventy-five,” said the pawnbroker persuasively. “Look here,” said the seaman, regarding him sternly, “you drop it. I’m not going to haggle with you. I’m not going to haggle with any man. I ain’t no judge o’ diamonds, but I’ve ’ad cause to know as this is something special. See here.” He rolled back the coat sleeve from his brawny arm, and revealed a long, newly healed scar. “I risked my life for that stone,” he said slowly. “I value my life at five hundred pounds. It’s likely worth more than as many thousands, and you know it. However, good-night to you, mate. How much for the tea?” He put his hand contemptuously in his trouser pocket, and pulled out some small change. “There’s the risk of getting rid of the stone,” said the pawnbroker, pushing aside the proffered coin. “Where did it come from? Has it got a history?” “Not in Europe it ain’t,” said the seaman. “So far as I know, you an’ me an’ one other are the only white men as know of it. That’s all I’m going to tell you.” “Do you mind waiting while I go and fetch a friend of mine to see it?” inquired the pawnbroker. “You needn’t be afraid,” he added hastily. “He’s a respectable man and as close as the grave.” “I’m not afraid,” said the seaman quietly. “But no larks, mind. I’m not a nice man to play them on. I’m pretty strong, an’ I’ve got something else besides.” He settled himself in the armchair again, and accepting another cigar, watched his host as he took his hat from the sideboard.