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"
Think better of it and come," said I.
He shook his head doubtfully. "I will pay back your
half-crown with interest some day--such interest as will amaze
you," said he. "Anyhow, you will keep the secret? . . . . Don't
follow me."
He crossed the road and went into the darkness towards the
little steps under the archway leading into Essex Street, and I let
him go. And that was the last I ever saw of him.
Afterwards I had two letters from him asking me to send
bank-notes--not cheques--to certain addresses. I weighed the
matter over and took what I conceived to be the wisest course.
Once he called upon me when I was out. My urchin described him as
a very thin, dirty, and ragged man, with a dreadful cough. He left
no message. That was the finish of him so far as my story goes.
I wonder sometimes what has become of him. Was he an ingenious
monomaniac, or a fraudulent dealer in pebbles, or has he really
made diamonds as he asserted? The latter is just sufficiently
credible to make me think at times that I have missed the most
brilliant opportunity of my life. He may of course be dead, and
his diamonds carelessly thrown aside--one, I repeat, was almost as
big as my thumb. Or he may be still wandering about trying to sell
the things. It is just possible he may yet emerge upon society,
and, passing athwart my heavens in the serene altitude sacred to
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