d, and
the only light was a spot of phosphorescent radiance that lay just under
the surface of the water, floating gradually down towards me. I knew, in
my sleep, that my eyes were destined to behold some sight of horror, yet
I was bound, in a species of frozen fascination, to the spot where I
stood, forced to wait for the oncoming of the light and its revelation
of mystery.

Slowly it was borne along with the tide, until, having reached a bend in
the river opposite the spot where I was standing, it ceased to move. I
stooped down and saw that the pale light shone forth from a great white
diamond on the finger of a dead man's hand. The body was faintly and
darkly outlined; even the floating arm might also have been a floating
mass of blackened river weed; but the hand was white as alabaster, and
as I bent over it, staring down, one of the fingers moved and beckoned.
Then I woke with a loud cry--"Harvey Farnham!"

I had gone through a good many dangers in my roving life, and had passed
through many a queer adventure, believing that I could still boast
unshaken nerves. Neither was I used to dreaming, and the hours of sleep
were usually for me a long and peaceful interval of complete
unconsciousness.

Now, however, my forehead was damp with a cold sweat, and I could hardly
shake off the horror of the vision. It was ridiculous, I said to myself,
and yet, even with my eyes open, I could see the white awfulness of that
dead finger, as it beckoned me, shining palely in the light of the
diamond ring.

Exactly why I had shouted the name of Harvey Farnham as I waked, I could
not understand, unless--with the odd "hang togetherativeness" of
dreams--it was because I had happened to notice during the evening at
the theatre that he still wore on the last finger of his left hand a
very remarkable ring, which he had also worn, and of which he had told
me the history, when we had met four years previously in America. I had
thought it perhaps the very finest diamond I had ever seen in the
possession of a private person, and he had mentioned that it had been
taken from the first mine of which he had ever been the owner. He had
had it for some years, and, having grown stouter meanwhile, the gold
setting had cut rather deeply into the flesh of his finger.

He had laughingly alluded to this in Denver, saying that he had promised
a pretty girl that she should have the stone when he should be obliged
to have the ring cut off, and he meant