HAVE met with strange adventures in my time, and none perhaps queerer than the story I am just about to relate.
The Crossthwaites were old friends of mine, and amongst them I had no greater favourite than the pretty Lady Pamela. She was a motherless girl of great beauty, and when first grown up had gone through much trouble owing to an unlucky love affair. A certain Laurence Carroll, a penniless subaltern in a line regiment, had conceived a desperate passion for her and she for him. There had been exciting scenes, for the young people had sworn to be true to each other in spite of obstacles. Carroll was a gentleman by birth, but somewhat harum-scarum and reckless in character. He had already contracted debts to a considerable amount, and was, in the eyes of her family, no suitable match for Lady Pamela. The Earl of Attrill forbade him the house—Lady Pamela broke down and had a somewhat severe illness, but in the course of a year had recovered her normal health and spirits. I had been consulted at the time of the Carroll trouble, and was, therefore, sincerely rejoiced when the news of Lady Pamela's engagement to the right man reached me.
She had now to all appearance given her whole heart to a certain Captain Mainwaring, a well-known traveller and a particularly brave officer. He had money of his own, and a character without a flaw. He was twenty years older than his pretty young bride, but that fact mattered nothing in the eyes of her relations.
At Lady Pamela's earnest request I had promised that no scientific work should prevent my being present at her wedding. She was to be married with much ceremony early in February of this present year 1896. The wedding was to take place from the Crossthwaites' town house in Portland Square, and the bridegroom arrived on leave of absence from his regiment in India just one week before the wedding. He was a tall, fine-looking, soldierly man, and Lady Pamela's friends congratulated her on all sides. These congratulations rose to a sort of furore of enthusiasm when it was discovered that, amongst other presents, the soldier had brought for his future bride's acceptance a diamond of extraordinary size and brilliancy.
The night after Captain Mainwaring's return from India, I dined at the Crossthwaites', and after dinner was permitted to see the gem. It reposed on a velvet bed under a glass case, and stood on a centre table in the room where the other wedding presents were displayed. This room was not only guarded by a detective from Scotland Yard, but also by a manservant, an old retainer of the family, who was supposed never to leave it except when the detective was present.
The diamond presented a strange and almost startling appearance: it was cut in the form of a cobra's eye, with some scintillating rays in the centre which not inaptly represented the pupil; it was set in a thin gold socket, and looked like an eye of evil and strange import as it glittered on its purple bed. In addition to the value which its queer shape and unique appearance gave it, the stone itself was of great intrinsic worth, as it weighed over thirty carats. One glance was sufficient to show me that it was of the first water and was free from the least clouding or imperfection—in certain lights it gave out a blue, in others again a red, colour.
“You would like to hear the story of that queer diamond?” said Captain Mainwaring, coming up to my side when he saw me examining the gem.
“It certainly presents a unique appearance,” I answered. “It must have a history.”
“It has—it is in reality one of the eyes of an Indian idol. It was given to me by a Rajah whose life I had been instrumental in saving. When he presented me with the gem he made a queer request.
“'It belongs to a tribe with whom I and my people have had a life-long quarrel,' he said. 'It is, as a glance will show you, the eye of a cobra—we call it in Hindustani Sānp Kee Ankh, which means the Snake's Eye. The money value of this stone is immense, but I run considerable danger by having it in my possession. In fact, I should be glad to be rid of it. If you are willing to take the responsibility, you shall have it on a condition.'
“I told him,” said Captain Mainwaring, “that I was not a nervous man, and that I would gladly accept the responsibility of such a valuable possession.