STORY OF THE YOUNG MAN IN HOLY ORDERS
THE Reverend Mr. Simon Rolles had distinguished himself in the MoralSciences, and was more than usually proficient in the study of Divinity.His essay “On the Christian Doctrine of the Social Obligations” obtainedfor him, at the moment of its production, a certain celebrity in theUniversity of Oxford; and it was understood in clerical and learnedcircles that young Mr. Rolles had in contemplation a considerable work—afolio, it was said—on the authority of the Fathers of the Church. Theseattainments, these ambitious designs, however, were far from helping himto any preferment; and he was still in quest of his first curacy when achance ramble in that part of London, the peaceful and rich aspect of thegarden, a desire for solitude and study, and the cheapness of thelodging, led him to take up his abode with Mr. Raeburn, the nurseryman ofStockdove Lane.
It was his habit every afternoon, after he had worked seven or eighthours on St. Ambrose or St. Chrysostom, to walk for a while in meditationamong the roses. And this was usually one of the most productive momentsof his day. But even a sincere appetite for thought, and the excitementof grave problems awaiting solution, are not always sufficient topreserve the mind of the philosopher against the petty shocks andcontacts of the world. And when Mr. Rolles found General Vandeleur’ssecretary, ragged and bleeding, in the company of his landlord; when hesaw both change colour and seek to avoid his questions; and, above all,when the former denied his own identity with the most unmoved assurance,he speedily forgot the Saints and Fathers in the vulgar interest ofcuriosity.
“I cannot be mistaken,” thought he. “That is Mr. Hartley beyond a doubt.How comes he in such a pickle? why does he deny his name? and what can behis business with that black-looking ruffian, my landlord?”
As he was thus reflecting, another peculiar circumstance attracted hisattention. The face of Mr. Raeburn appeared at a low window next thedoor; and, as chance directed, his eyes met those of Mr. Rolles. Thenurseryman seemed disconcerted, and even alarmed; and immediately afterthe blind of the apartment was pulled sharply down.
“This may all be very well,” reflected Mr. Rolles; “it may be allexcellently well; but I confess freely that I do not think so.Suspicious, underhand, untruthful, fearful of observation—I believe uponmy soul,” he thought, “the pair are plotting some disgraceful action.”
The detective that there is in all of us awoke and became clamant in thebosom of Mr. Rolles; and with a brisk, eager step, that bore noresemblance to his usual gait, he proceeded to make the circuit of thegarden. When he came to the scene of Harry’s escalade, his eye was atonce arrested by a broken rosebush and marks of trampling on the mould.He looked up, and saw scratches on the brick, and a rag of trouserfloating from a broken bottle. This, then, was the mode of entrancechosen by Mr. Raeburn’s particular friend! It was thus that GeneralVandeleur’s secretary came to admire a flower-garden! The youngclergyman whistled softly to himself as he stooped to examine the ground.He could make out where Harry had landed from his perilous leap; herecognised the flat foot of Mr. Raeburn where it had sunk deeply in thesoil as he pulled up the Secretary by the collar; nay, on a closerinspection, he seemed to distinguish the marks of groping fingers, asthough something had been spilt abroad and eagerly collected.
“Upon my word,” he thought, “the thing grows vastly interesting.”
And just then he caught sight of something almost entirely buried in theearth. In an instant he had disinterred a dainty morocco case,ornamented and clasped in gilt. It had been trodden heavily underfoot,and thus escaped the hurried search of Mr. Raeburn. Mr. Rolles openedthe case, and drew a long breath of almost horrified astonishment; forthere lay before him, in a cradle of green velvet, a diamond ofprodigious magnitude and of the finest water. It was of the bigness of aduck’s egg; beautifully shaped, and without a flaw; and as the sun shoneupon it, it gave forth a lustre like that of electricity, and seemed toburn in his hand with a thousand internal fires.
He knew little of precious stones; but the Rajah’s Diamond was a wonderthat explained itself; a village child, if he found it, would runscreaming for the nearest cottage; and a savage would prostrate himselfin adoration before so imposing a fetish. The beauty of the stoneflattered the young clergyman’s eyes; the thought of its incalculablevalue overpowered his intellect. He knew that what he held in his handwas worth more than many years’ purchase of an archiepiscopal see; thatit would build cathedrals more stately than Ely or Cologne; that he whopossessed it was set free for ever from the primal curse, and mightfollow his own inclinations without concern or hurry, without let orhindrance. And as he suddenly turned it, the rays leaped forth againwith renewed brilliancy, and seemed to pierce his very heart.
Decisive actions are often taken in a moment and without any consciousdeliverance from the rational parts of man. So it was now with Mr.Rolles. He glanced hurriedly round; beheld, like Mr. Raeburn before him,nothing but the sunlit flower-garden, the tall tree-tops, and the housewith blinded windows; and in a trice he had shut the case, thrust it intohis pocket, and was hastening to his study with the speed of guilt.
The Reverend Simon Rolles had stolen the Rajah’s Diamond.
Early in the afternoon the police arrived with Harry Hartley. Thenurseryman, who was beside himself with terror, readily discovered hishoard; and the jewels were identified and inventoried in the presence ofthe Secretary. As for Mr. Rolles, he showed himself in a most obligingtemper, communicated what he knew with freedom, and professed regret thathe could do no more to help the officers in their duty.
“Still,” he added, “I suppose your business is nearly at an end.”
“By no means,” replied the man from Scotland Yard; and he narrated thesecond robbery of which Harry had been the immediate victim, and gave theyoung clergyman a description of the more important jewels that werestill not found, dilating particularly on the Rajah’s Diamond.
“It must be worth a fortune,” observed Mr. Rolles.
“Ten fortunes—twenty fortunes,” cried the officer.
“The more it is worth,” remarked Simon shrewdly, “the more difficult itmust be to sell. Such a thing has a physiognomy not to be disguised, andI should fancy a man might as easily negotiate St. Paul’s Cathedral.”
“Oh, truly!” said the officer; “but if the thief be a man of anyintelligence, he will cut it into three or four, and there will be stillenough to make him rich.”
“Thank you,” said the clergyman. “You cannot imagine how much yourconversation interests me.”
Whereupon the functionary admitted that they knew many strange things inhis profession, and immediately after took his leave.
Mr. Rolles regained his apartment. It seemed smaller and barer thanusual; the materials for his great work had never presented so littleinterest; and he looked upon his library with the eye of scorn. He tookdown, volume by volume, several Fathers of the Church, and glanced themthrough; but they contained nothing to his purpose.
“These old gentlemen,” thought he, “are no doubt very valuable writers,but they seem to me conspicuously ignorant of life. Here am I, withlearning enough to be a Bishop, and I positively do not know how todispose of a stolen diamond. I glean a hint from a common policeman,and, with all my folios, I cannot so much as put it into execution. Thisinspires me with very low ideas of University training.”
Herewith he kicked over his book-shelf and, putting on his hat, hastenedfrom the house to the club of which he was a member. In such a place ofmundane resort he hoped to find some man of good counsel and a shrewdexperience in life. In the reading-room he saw many of the countryclergy and an Archdeacon; there were three journalists and a writer uponthe Higher Metaphysic, playing pool; and at dinner only the raff ofordinary club frequenters showed their commonplace and obliteratedcountenances. None of these, thought Mr. Rolles, would know more ondangerous topics than he knew himself; none of them were fit to give himguidance in his present strait. At length in the smoking-room, up manyweary
stairs, he hit upon a gentleman of somewhat portly build anddressed with conspicuous plainness. He was smoking a cigar and readingthe _Fortnightly Review_; his face was singularly free from all sign ofpreoccupation or fatigue; and there was something in his air which seemedto invite confidence and to expect submission. The more the youngclergyman scrutinised his features, the more he was convinced that he hadfallen on one capable of giving pertinent advice.
“Sir,” said he, “you will excuse my abruptness; but I judge you from yourappearance to be pre-eminently a man of the world.”
“I have indeed considerable claims to that distinction,” replied thestranger, laying aside his magazine with a look of mingled amusement andsurprise.
“I, sir,” continued the Curate, “am a recluse, a student, a creature ofink-bottles and patristic folios. A recent event has brought my follyvividly before my eyes, and I desire to instruct myself in life. Bylife,” he added, “I do not mean Thackeray’s novels; but the crimes andsecret possibilities of our society, and the principles of wise conductamong exceptional events. I am a patient reader; can the thing be learntin books?”
“You put me in a difficulty,” said the stranger. “I confess I have nogreat notion of the use of books, except to amuse a railway journey;although, I believe, there are some very exact treatises on astronomy,the use of the globes, agriculture, and the art of making paper flowers.Upon the less apparent provinces of life I fear you will find nothingtruthful. Yet stay,” he added, “have you read Gaboriau?”
Mr. Rolles admitted he had never even heard the name.
“You may gather some notions from Gaboriau,” resumed the stranger. “Heis at least suggestive; and as he is an author much studied by PrinceBismarck, you will, at the worst, lose your time in good society.”
“Sir,” said the Curate, “I am infinitely obliged by your politeness.”
“You have already more than repaid me,” returned the other.
“How?” inquired Simon.
“By the novelty of your request,” replied the gentleman; and with apolite gesture, as though to ask permission, he resumed the study of the_Fortnightly Review_.
On his way home Mr. Rolles purchased a work on precious stones andseveral of Gaboriau’s novels. These last he eagerly skimmed until anadvanced hour in the morning; but although they introduced him to manynew ideas, he could nowhere discover what to do with a stolen diamond.He was annoyed, moreover, to find the information scattered amongstromantic story-telling, instead of soberly set forth after the manner ofa manual; and he concluded that, even if the writer had thought much uponthese subjects, he was totally lacking in educational method. For thecharacter and attainments of Lecoq, however, he was unable to contain hisadmiration.
“He was truly a great creature,” ruminated Mr. Rolles. “He knew theworld as I know Paley’s Evidences. There was nothing that he could notcarry to a termination with his own hand, and against the largest odds.Heavens!” he broke out suddenly, “is not this the lesson? Must I notlearn to cut diamonds for myself?”
It seemed to him as if he had sailed at once out of his perplexities; heremembered that he knew a jeweller, one B. Macculloch, in Edinburgh, whowould be glad to put him in the way of the necessary training; a fewmonths, perhaps a few years, of sordid toil, and he would be sufficientlyexpert to divide and sufficiently cunning to dispose with advantage ofthe Rajah’s Diamond. That done, he might return to pursue his researchesat leisure, a wealthy and luxurious student, envied and respected by all.Golden visions attended him through his slumber, and he awoke refreshedand light-hearted with the morning sun.
Mr. Raeburn’s house was on that day to be closed by the police, and thisafforded a pretext for his departure. He cheerfully prepared hisbaggage, transported it to King’s Cross, where he left it in thecloak-room, and returned to the club to while away the afternoon anddine.
“If you dine here to-day, Rolles,” observed an acquaintance, “you may seetwo of the most remarkable men in England—Prince Florizel of Bohemia, andold Jack Vandeleur.”
“I have heard of the Prince,” replied Mr. Rolles; “and General VandeleurI have even met in society.”
“General Vandeleur is an ass!” returned the other. “This is his brotherJohn, the biggest adventurer, the best judge of precious stones, and oneof the most acute diplomatists in Europe. Have you never heard of hisduel with the Duc de Val d’Orge? of his exploits and atrocities when hewas Dictator of Paraguay? of his dexterity in recovering Sir SamuelLevi’s jewellery? nor of his services in the Indian Mutiny—services bywhich the Government profited, but which the Government dared notrecognise? You make me wonder what we mean by fame, or even by infamy;for Jack Vandeleur has prodigious claims to both. Run downstairs,” hecontinued, “take a table near them, and keep your ears open. You willhear some strange talk, or I am much misled.”
“But how shall I know them?” inquired the clergyman.
“Know them!” cried his friend; “why, the Prince is the finest gentlemanin Europe, the only living creature who looks like a king; and as forJack Vandeleur, if you can imagine Ulysses at seventy years of age, andwith a sabre-cut across his face, you have the man before you! Knowthem, indeed! Why, you could pick either of them out of a Derby day!”
Rolles eagerly hurried to the dining-room. It was as his friend hadasserted; it was impossible to mistake the pair in question. Old JohnVandeleur was of a remarkable force of body, and obviously broken to themost difficult exercises. He had neither the carriage of a swordsman,nor of a sailor, nor yet of one much inured to the saddle; but somethingmade up of all these, and the result and expression of many differenthabits and dexterities. His features were bold and aquiline; hisexpression arrogant and predatory; his whole appearance that of a swift,violent, unscrupulous man of action; and his copious white hair and thedeep sabre-cut that traversed his nose and temple added a note ofsavagery to a head already remarkable and menacing in itself.
In his companion, the Prince of Bohemia, Mr. Rolles was astonished torecognise the gentleman who had recommended him the study of Gaboriau.Doubtless Prince Florizel, who rarely visited the club, of which, as ofmost others, he was an honorary member, had been waiting for JohnVandeleur when Simon accosted him on the previous evening.
The other diners had modestly retired into the angles of the room, andleft the distinguished pair in a certain isolation, but the youngclergyman was unrestrained by any sentiment of awe, and, marching boldlyup, took his place at the nearest table.
The conversation was, indeed, new to the student’s ears. The ex-Dictatorof Paraguay stated many extraordinary experiences in different quartersof the world; and the Prince supplied a commentary which, to a man ofthought, was even more interesting than the events themselves. Two formsof experience were thus brought together and laid before the youngclergyman; and he did not know which to admire the most—the desperateactor or the skilled expert in life; the man who spoke boldly of his owndeeds and perils, or the man who seemed, like a god, to know all thingsand to have suffered nothing. The manner of each aptly fitted with hispart in the discourse. The Dictator indulged in brutalities alike ofspeech and gesture; his hand opened and shut and fell roughly on thetable; and his voice was loud and heavy. The Prince, on the other hand,seemed the very type of urbane docility and quiet; the least movement,the least inflection, had with him a weightier significance than all theshouts and pantomime of his companion; and if ever, as must frequentlyhave been the case, he described some experience personal to himself, itwas so aptly dissimulated as to pass unnoticed with the rest.
At length the talk wandered on to the late robberies and the Rajah’sDiamond.
“That diamond would be better in the sea,” observed Prince Florizel.
“As a Vandeleur,” replied the Dictator, “your Highness may imagine mydissent.”
“I speak on grounds of public policy,” pursued the Prince. “Jewels sovaluable should be reserved for the collection of a Prince or thetreasury of a great natio
n. To hand them about among the common sort ofmen is to set a price on Virtue’s head; and if the Rajah of Kashgar—aPrince, I understand, of great enlightenment—desired vengeance upon themen of Europe, he could hardly have gone more efficaciously about hispurpose than by sending us this apple of discord. There is no honestytoo robust for such a trial. I myself, who have many duties and manyprivileges of my own—I myself, Mr. Vandeleur, could scarce handle theintoxicating crystal and be safe. As for you, who are a diamond hunterby taste and profession, I do not believe there is a crime in thecalendar you would not perpetrate—I do not believe you have a friend inthe world whom you would not eagerly betray—I do not know if you have afamily, but if you have I declare you would sacrifice your children—andall this for what? Not to be richer, nor to have more comforts or morerespect, but simply to call this diamond yours for a year or two untilyou die, and now and again to open a safe and look at it as one looks ata picture.”
“It is true,” replied Vandeleur. “I have hunted most things, from menand women down to mosquitos; I have dived for coral; I have followed bothwhales and tigers; and a diamond is the tallest quarry of the lot. Ithas beauty and worth; it alone can properly reward the ardours of thechase. At this moment, as your Highness may fancy, I am upon the trail;I have a sure knack, a wide experience; I know every stone of price in mybrother’s collection as a shepherd knows his sheep; and I wish I may dieif I do not recover them every one!”
“Sir Thomas Vandeleur will have great cause to thank you,” said thePrince.
“I am not so sure,” returned the Dictator, with a laugh. “One of theVandeleurs will. Thomas or John—Peter or Paul—we are all apostles.”
“I did not catch your observation,” said the Prince with some disgust.
And at the same moment the waiter informed Mr. Vandeleur that his cab wasat the door.
Mr. Rolles glanced at the clock, and saw that he also must be moving; andthe coincidence struck him sharply and unpleasantly, for he desired tosee no more of the diamond hunter.
Much study having somewhat shaken the young man’s nerves, he was in thehabit of travelling in the most luxurious manner; and for the presentjourney he had taken a sofa in the sleeping carriage.
“You will be very comfortable,” said the guard; “there is no one in yourcompartment, and only one old gentleman in the other end.”
It was close upon the hour, and the tickets were being examined, when Mr.Rolles beheld this other fellow-passenger ushered by several porters intohis place; certainly, there was not another man in the world whom hewould not have preferred—for it was old John Vandeleur, the ex-Dictator.
The sleeping carriages on the Great Northern line were divided into threecompartments—one at each end for travellers, and one in the centre fittedwith the conveniences of a lavatory. A door running in grooves separatedeach of the others from the lavatory; but as there were neither bolts norlocks, the whole suite was practically common ground.
When Mr. Rolles had studied his position, he perceived himself withoutdefence. If the Dictator chose to pay him a visit in the course of thenight, he could do no less than receive it; he had no means offortification, and lay open to attack as if he had been lying in thefields. This situation caused him some agony of mind. He recalled withalarm the boastful statements of his fellow-traveller across thedining-table, and the professions of immorality which he had heard himoffering to the disgusted Prince. Some persons, he remembered to haveread, are endowed with a singular quickness of perception for theneighbourhood of precious metals; through walls and even at considerabledistances they are said to divine the presence of gold. Might it not bethe same with diamonds? he wondered; and if so, who was more likely toenjoy this transcendental sense than the person who gloried in theappellation of the Diamond Hunter? From such a man he recognised that hehad everything to fear, and longed eagerly for the arrival of the day.
In the meantime he neglected no precaution, concealed his diamond in themost internal pocket of a system of great-coats, and devoutly recommendedhimself to the care of Providence.
The train pursued its usual even and rapid course; and nearly half thejourney had been accomplished before slumber began to triumph overuneasiness in the breast of Mr. Rolles. For some time he resisted itsinfluence; but it grew upon him more and more, and a little before Yorkhe was fain to stretch himself upon one of the couches and suffer hiseyes to close; and almost at the same instant consciousness deserted theyoung clergyman. His last thought was of his terrifying neighbour.
When he awoke it was still pitch dark, except for the flicker of theveiled lamp; and the continual roaring and oscillation testified to theunrelaxed velocity of the train. He sat upright in a panic, for he hadbeen tormented by the most uneasy dreams; it was some seconds before herecovered his self-command; and even after he had resumed a recumbentattitude sleep continued to flee him, and he lay awake with his brain ina state of violent agitation, and his eyes fixed upon the lavatory door.He pulled his clerical felt hat over his brow still farther to shield himfrom the light; and he adopted the usual expedients, such as counting athousand or banishing thought, by which experienced invalids areaccustomed to woo the approach of sleep. In the case of Mr. Rolles theyproved one and all vain; he was harassed by a dozen differentanxieties—the old man in the other end of the carriage haunted him in themost alarming shapes; and in whatever attitude he chose to lie thediamond in his pocket occasioned him a sensible physical distress. Itburned, it was too large, it bruised his ribs; and there wereinfinitesimal fractions of a second in which he had half a mind to throwit from the window.
While he was thus lying, a strange incident took place.
The sliding-door into the lavatory stirred a little, and then a littlemore, and was finally drawn back for the space of about twenty inches.The lamp in the lavatory was unshaded, and in the lighted aperture thusdisclosed, Mr. Rolles could see the head of Mr. Vandeleur in an attitudeof deep attention. He was conscious that the gaze of the Dictator restedintently on his own face; and the instinct of self-preservation moved himto hold his breath, to refrain from the least movement, and keeping hiseyes lowered, to watch his visitor from underneath the lashes. Afterabout a moment, the head was withdrawn and the door of the lavatoryreplaced.
The Dictator had not come to attack, but to observe; his action was notthat of a man threatening another, but that of a man who was himselfthreatened; if Mr. Rolles was afraid of him, it appeared that he, in histurn, was not quite easy on the score of Mr. Rolles. He had come, itwould seem, to make sure that his only fellow-traveller was asleep; and,when satisfied on that point, he had at once withdrawn.
The clergyman leaped to his feet. The extreme of terror had given placeto a reaction of foolhardy daring. He reflected that the rattle of theflying train concealed all other sounds, and determined, come what might,to return the visit he had just received. Divesting himself of hiscloak, which might have interfered with the freedom of his action, heentered the lavatory and paused to listen. As he had expected, there wasnothing to be heard above the roar of the train’s progress; and layinghis hand on the door at the farther side, he proceeded cautiously to drawit back for about six inches. Then he stopped, and could not contain anejaculation of surprise.
John Vandeleur wore a fur travelling cap with lappets to protect hisears; and this may have combined with the sound of the express to keephim in ignorance of what was going forward. It is certain, at least,that he did not raise his head, but continued without interruption topursue his strange employment. Between his feet stood an open hat-box;in one hand he held the sleeve of his sealskin great-coat; in the other aformidable knife, with which he had just slit up the lining of thesleeve. Mr. Rolles had read of persons carrying money in a belt; and ashe had no acquaintance with any but cricket-belts, he had never been ablerightly to conceive how this was managed. But here was a stranger thingbefore his eyes; for John Vandeleur, it appeared, carried diamonds in thelining of his sleeve; and even as the young c
lergyman gazed, he could seeone glittering brilliant drop after another into the hat-box.
He stood riveted to the spot, following this unusual business with hiseyes. The diamonds were, for the most part, small, and not easilydistinguishable either in shape or fire. Suddenly the Dictator appearedto find a difficulty; he employed both hands and stooped over his task;but it was not until after considerable manoeuvring that he extricated alarge tiara of diamonds from the lining, and held it up for some seconds’examination before he placed it with the others in the hat-box. Thetiara was a ray of light to Mr. Rolles; he immediately recognised it fora part of the treasure stolen from Harry Hartley by the loiterer. Therewas no room for mistake; it was exactly as the detective had describedit; there were the ruby stars, with a great emerald in the centre; therewere the interlacing crescents; and there were the pear-shaped pendants,each a single stone, which gave a special value to Lady Vandeleur’stiara.
Mr. Rolles was hugely relieved. The Dictator was as deeply in the affairas he was; neither could tell tales upon the other. In the first glow ofhappiness, the clergyman suffered a deep sigh to escape him; and as hisbosom had become choked and his throat dry during his previous suspense,the sigh was followed by a cough.
Mr. Vandeleur looked up; his face contracted with the blackest and mostdeadly passion; his eyes opened widely, and his under jaw dropped in anastonishment that was upon the brink of fury. By an instinctive movementhe had covered the hat-box with the coat. For half a minute the two menstared upon each other in silence. It was not a long interval, but itsufficed for Mr. Rolles; he was one of those who think swiftly ondangerous occasions; he decided on a course of action of a singularlydaring nature; and although he felt he was setting his life upon thehazard, he was the first to break silence.
“I beg your pardon,” said he.
The Dictator shivered slightly, and when he spoke his voice was hoarse.
“What do you want here?” he asked.
“I take a particular interest in diamonds,” replied Mr. Rolles, with anair of perfect self-possession. “Two connoisseurs should be acquainted.I have here a trifle of my own which may perhaps serve for anintroduction.”
And so saying, he quietly took the case from his pocket, showed theRajah’s Diamond to the Dictator for an instant, and replaced it insecurity.
“It was once your brother’s,” he added.
John Vandeleur continued to regard him with a look of almost painfulamazement; but he neither spoke nor moved.
“I was pleased to observe,” resumed the young man, “that we have gemsfrom the same collection.”
The Dictator’s surprise overpowered him.
“I beg your pardon,” he said; “I begin to perceive that I am growing old!I am positively not prepared for little incidents like this. But set mymind at rest upon one point: do my eyes deceive me, or are you indeed aparson?”
“I am in holy orders,” answered Mr. Rolles.
“Well,” cried the other, “as long as I live I will never hear anotherword against the cloth!”
“You flatter me,” said Mr. Rolles.
“Pardon me,” replied Vandeleur; “pardon me, young man. You are nocoward, but it still remains to be seen whether you are not the worst offools. Perhaps,” he continued, leaning back upon his seat, “perhaps youwould oblige me with a few particulars. I must suppose you had someobject in the stupefying impudence of your proceedings, and I confess Ihave a curiosity to know it.”
“It is very simple,” replied the clergyman; “it proceeds from my greatinexperience of life.”
“I shall be glad to be persuaded,” answered Vandeleur.
Whereupon Mr. Rolles told him the whole story of his connection with theRajah’s Diamond, from the time he found it in Raeburn’s garden to thetime when he left London in the Flying Scotchman. He added a briefsketch of his feelings and thoughts during the journey, and concluded inthese words:—
“When I recognised the tiara I knew we were in the same attitude towardsSociety, and this inspired me with a hope, which I trust you will say wasnot ill-founded, that you might become in some sense my partner in thedifficulties and, of course, the profits of my situation. To one of yourspecial knowledge and obviously great experience the negotiation of thediamond would give but little trouble, while to me it was a matter ofimpossibility. On the other part, I judged that I might lose nearly asmuch by cutting the diamond, and that not improbably with an unskilfulhand, as might enable me to pay you with proper generosity for yourassistance. The subject was a delicate one to broach; and perhaps I fellshort in delicacy. But I must ask you to remember that for me thesituation was a new one, and I was entirely unacquainted with theetiquette in use. I believe without vanity that I could have married orbaptized you in a very acceptable manner; but every man has his ownaptitudes, and this sort of bargain was not among the list of myaccomplishments.”
“I do not wish to flatter you,” replied Vandeleur; “but upon my word, youhave an unusual disposition for a life of crime. You have moreaccomplishments than you imagine; and though I have encountered a numberof rogues in different quarters of the world, I never met with one sounblushing as yourself. Cheer up, Mr. Rolles, you are in the rightprofession at last! As for helping you, you may command me as you will.I have only a day’s business in Edinburgh on a little matter for mybrother; and once that is concluded, I return to Paris, where I usuallyreside. If you please, you may accompany me thither. And before the endof a month I believe I shall have brought your little business to asatisfactory conclusion.”
* * * * *
(_At this point_, _contrary to all the canons of his art_, _our Arabianauthor breaks off the_ STORY OF THE YOUNG MAN IN HOLY ORDERS. _I regretand condemn such practices_; _but I must follow my original_, _and referthe reader for the conclusion of Mr. Rolles’ adventures to the nextnumber of the cycle_, _the_ STORY OF THE HOUSE WITH THE GREEN BLINDS.)