"An abominable fault, brother Tristram," said Harry, sternly.
"Hideous!" cried the others, drowning poor Rosalie's homily in a flood of irony more heartless than Tristram's own.
Then Rosalie gave him up as incorrigible.
"I wonder if Count L'Alienado's jewel has not a legend attached to it?" said some one.
"It is an alamandine ruby from Siam," began the count.
"Oh, do go on," cried Miss Milly Mills from the rear, who had been listening over her shoulder. "Tell us the story. I'm sure it will be better than Cleverly's last book."
"Oh, if it isn't better than that——"
"But the setting was fresh," said Tristram, who was Cleverly's friend. "He rehangs his gallery well, even if the portraits are familiar."
"This talisman of mine has indeed a story attached to it," said Count L'Alienado at last, "but you may read hundreds better in any book of oriental tales. Its quality, however, is curious. You know that mesmerism has long been known in the east, and that many of the occult feats of the Hindoo magicians are ascribed to that power. It was an Arab caliph who first attributed to this stone the quality of securing immunity to its possessor from the magic trance. As a matter of fact, I have never been hypnotized while I wore it."
"A challenge, Harry," said Tristram.