lady's visiting card on his desk, and had been reminded by it (in
what way it was not necessary to explain) of a criminal case
which had excited considerable public interest at the time; viz.,
the trial of Captain Westerfield for willfully casting away a
ship under his command. Never having heard of the trial, the
writer, at his friend's suggestion, consulted a file of
newspapers--discovered the report--and became aware, for the
first time, that a collection of Brazilian diamonds, consigned to
the Liverpool firm, was missing from the wrecked vessel when she
had been boarded by the salvage party, and had not been found
since. Events, which it was impossible for him to mention (seeing
that doing so would involve a breach of confidence placed in him
in his professional capacity), had revealed to his knowledge a
hiding-place in which these same diamonds, in all probability,
were concealed. This circumstance had left him no alternative, as
an honest man, but to be beforehand with the persons, who (as he
believed) contemplated stealing the precious stones. He had,
accordingly, taken them under his protection, until they were
identified and claimed by the rightful owners. In now appealing
to these gentlemen, he stipulated that the claim should be set
forth in writing, addressed to him under initials at a
post-office in London. If the lost property was identified to his
satisfaction, he would meet--at a specified place and on a
certain day and hour--a person accredited by the firm and would
personally restore the diamonds, without claiming (or consenting
to receive) a reward. The conditions being complied with, this
remarkable interview took place; the writer of the letter,
described as an infirm old man very poorly dressed, fulfilled his
engagement, took his receipt, and walked away without even
waiting to be thanked. It is only an act of justice to add that