Then I suddenly realised I was in a hole.
Either I should have to tell these police my little secret, and get
the whole thing blown upon, or be lagged as an Anarchist. So I
went up to my neighbour and took him by the collar, and rolled him
about a bit, and then I gathered up my diamonds and cleared out.
The evening newspapers called my den the Kentish Town Bomb Factory.
And now I cannot part with the things for love or money.
"If I go in to respectable jewellers they ask me to wait, and
go and whisper to a clerk to fetch a policeman, and then I say I
cannot wait. And I found out a receiver of stolen goods, and he
simply stuck to the one I gave him and told me to prosecute if I
wanted it back. I am going about now with several hundred thousand
pounds-worth of diamonds round my neck, and without either food or
shelter. You are the first person I have taken into my confidence.
But I like your face and I am hard-driven."
He looked into my eyes.
"It would be madness," said I, "for me to buy a diamond under
the circumstances. Besides, I do not carry hundreds of pounds
about in my pocket. Yet I more than half believe your story. I
will, if you like, do this: come to my office to-morrow . . . . "
"You think I am a thief!" said he keenly. "You will tell the
police. I am not coming into a trap."
"Somehow I am assured you are no thief.
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