ed itself; a village child, if he found it, would run
screaming for the nearest cottage; and a savage would prostrate himself
in adoration before so imposing a fetich. The beauty of the stone
flattered the young clergyman's eyes; the thought of its incalculable
value overpowered his intellect. He knew that what he held in his hand
was worth more than many years' purchase of an archiepiscopal see; that
it would build cathedrals more stately than Ely or Cologne; that he who
possessed it was set free for ever from the primal curse, and might
follow his own inclinations without concern or hurry, without let or
hindrance. And as he suddenly turned it, the rays leaped forth again
with renewed brilliancy, and seemed to pierce his very heart.

Decisive actions are often taken in a moment and without any conscious
deliverance 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 house
with blinded windows; and in a trice he had shut the case, thrust it
into his 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. The
nurseryman, who was beside himself with terror, readily discovered his
hoard; and the jewels were identified and inventoried in the presence of
the secretary. As for Mr. Rolles, he showed himself in a most obliging
temper, communicated what he knew with freedom, and professed regret
that he 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 the
second robbery of which Harry had been the immediate victim, and gave
the young clergyman a description of the more important jewels that were
still 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 it
must be to sell. Such a thing has a physiognomy not to be disguised, and
I 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 any
intelligence, he will cut it into three or four, and there will be still
enough t