Luchman looked around in the faces of his three friends. Satisfied that they were really asleep, he raised with dignity the turban, insinuated his fingers among the downy recesses, and in a twinkling held up the gem between his thumb and forefinger.
There it was, the Star of India.
Brilliant with the dazzling rays of the spectrum, luminous, apparently, with a light of its own, gleaming, coruscating and marvelous, the European fairly held his breath while gazing upon it.
"Let me have it in my hand!"
Luchman leaned forward and dropped it in the outstretched palm. The doctor held it motionless a moment, drew it close to his face and then began manipulating it, first with timidity, but soon with confidence, moved by a strange delight.
There seemed to be an electric thrill communicated by the extraordinary gem, which reached the brain of the spectator, who turned it over and over, and, as he became more familiar with it, held it up, now near and now at arm's length, until he had drunk in the fulness of its wonderful beauty.
"An amazing gem!" he muttered; "I can understand how it has caused so much crime and bloodshed."
Dr. Avery passed it back with a sigh.
"It seems to me," said he, "that you run fearful risk in carrying that in your turban. Why do you not deposit it in one of the banks in Calcutta or Madras or Bombay, where there is nothing to be feared from the mutineers?"
The native shook his head.