she remained outside and the magistrate was
invited to join their council; when they again left the shadow of the
trees it was to approach the tent.

The magistrate, who was in the rear, could not have more than passed the
opening, but I thought him far enough inside not to detect any movement
on my part, so I took advantage of the situation to worm myself out of
my corner and across the ledge to where the tent made a shadow in the
moonlight.

Crouching close, and laying my ear against the canvas, I listened.

The nurse was speaking in a gently persuasive tone. I imagined her
kneeling by the head of the patient and breathing words into his ear.
These were what I heard:

"You love diamonds. I have often noticed that; you look so long at the
ring on your hand. That is why I have let it stay there, though at times
I have feared it would drop off and roll away over the adobe down the
mountain-side. Was I right?"

"Yes, yes." The words came with difficulty, but they were clear enough.
"It's of small value. I like it because--"

He appeared to be too weak to finish.

A pause, during which she seemed to edge nearer to him.

"We all have some pet keepsake," said she. "But I should never have
supposed this stone of yours an inexpensive one. But I forget that you
are the owner of a very large and remarkable diamond, a diamond that
is spoken of sometimes in the papers. Of course, if you have a gem like
that, this one must appear very small and valueless to you."

"Yes, this is nothing, nothing." And he appeared to turn away his head.

"Mr. Fairbrother! Pardon me, but I want to tell you something about that
big diamond of yours. You have been in and have not been able to read
your letters, so do not know that your wife has had some trouble with
that diamond. People have said that it is not a real stone, but a
well-executed imitation. May I write to her that this is a mistake,
that it is all you have ever claimed for it--that is, an unusually large
diamond of the first water?"

I listened in amazement. Surely, this was an insidious way to get at
the truth,--a woman's way, but who would say it was not a wise one,
the wisest, perhaps, which could be taken under the circumstances? What
would his reply be? Would it show that he was as ignorant of his wife's
death as was generally believed, both by those about him here and those
who knew him well in New York? Or would the question convey nothing
further to him than the doubt