I would be stretched on the rack till every bone in my skin was broken.
I cursed Mr. Arthur Ulster every hour in the day; myself, as well; and
even now the word diamond sends a cold blast to my heart. I often met my
friend the _marchand des armures_. It was his turn to triumph; I fancied
there must be a hang-dog kind of air about me, as about every sharp man
who has been outwitted. It wanted finally but two days of that on which
I was to deliver the diamond.

One midnight, armed with a dark lantern and a cloak, I was traversing
the streets alone,--unsuccessful, as usual, just now solitary, and
almost in despair. As I turned a corner, two men were but scarcely
visible a step before me. It was a badly-lighted part of the town.
Unseen and noiseless I followed. They spoke in low tones,--almost
whispers; or rather, one spoke,--the other seemed to nod assent.

"On the day but one after to-morrow," I heard spoken in English. Great
Heavens! was it possible? had I arrived at a clue? That was the day of
days for me. "You have given it, you say, in this billet,--I wish to be
exact, you see," continued the voice,--"to prevent detection, you
gave it, ten minutes after it came into your hands, to the butler of
Madame----," (here the speaker stumbled on the rough pavement, and I
lost the name,) "who," he continued, "will put it in the----" (a second
stumble acted like a hiccough) "cellar."

"Wine-cellar," I thought; "and what then?"

"In the----." A third stumble was followed by a round German oath. How
easy it is for me now to fill up the little blanks which that unhappy
pavement caused!