“What’s he hiding it for?”
“Because,” said Captain North, in a soft voice looking up and around, “he’s mad!”
“Just so!” said I. “That I’ll swear to now, and I’ve been suspecting it this fortnight past.”
“He’s under the spell of some sort of mania,” continued the captain; “he believes he’s commissioned to present a diamond to the Queen; possibly picked up a bit of stuff in the street that started the delusion, then bought a case for it, and worked out the rest as we know.”
“But why does he want to pretend that the stone was stolen from him?”
“He’s been mastered by his own love for the diamond,” he answered. “That’s how I reason it. Madness has made his affection for his imaginary gem a passion in him.”
“And so he robbed himself of it, you think, that he might keep it?”
“That’s about it,” said he.
After this I kept no further look-out upon the Major, nor would I ever take an opportunity to enter his cabin to view for myself the piece of glass as the captain described it, though curiosity was often hot in me.