"Yes," he answered, in a voice choked with rage, and drawing the box from his bosom, he muttered, "Curse you, take it!"
Michael returned the pistol to his belt, opened the box, and attentively examined the diamond.
"It is the one," he said, as he closed the box again, and stowed it away.
The unlucky officer followed all these movements with a lack-lustre eye.
Michael resumed his seat, poured himself out a glass of rum, swallowed it at a draught, and then bending forward as he filled his pipe, said—
"Now, let us talk."
"What, talk?" asked the Major; "Have we not finished yet?"
"Not yet—what a hurry you are in. At present we have said nothing."
"What more do you want of me?"
"That is meant for a reproach; but I allow for your ill temper, and owe you no grudge for it. It is a sad thing for a man who has been poor all his life to see himself robbed in a moment of a fortune which he had only just secured. Well, then, listen to me, Major," he said, assuming a consolatory air, and putting his elbows on the table, "it is easy for you to regain the fortune you have lost, and it only depends on yourself."