“Ah, my dear,” replied her husband, “you do not comprehend the situation.  It was very plain that the authorities of the museum did not believe that a private individual, a stranger, was likely to be the legitimate owner of these treasures.  Had my case been an ordinary one I should have courted investigation; but how could I prove that I had been an honest man three hundred years before?  A legal examination, not so much on account of the jewels, but because of the necessary assertion of my age, would have been a terrible ordeal.

“I hurried to the dealer’s shop, but found it closed.  Inquiring of a woman in a neighboring door-step, I was informed that the dealer had been arrested.  I asked no more.  I did not return to my lodgings, and that night I left Madrid.”

I could not repress an exclamation of distress, and Mrs. Crowder cried:  “Did thee really go away and leave thy jewels?  Such a thing is too dreadful to think of.  But perhaps thee got them again?”

“No,” said Mr. Crowder; “I never saw them again, nor ever heard of them.  But now that it is impossible for any one to be living who might recognize me, I hope to go to Madrid and see those gems.  I have no doubt that they are in the museum.”

“And I,” exclaimed Mrs. Crowder—­“I shall go with thee; I shall see them.”

“Indeed you shall,” said her husband, taking her affectionately by the hand.  And then he turned to me.  “You may think,” said he, “that I was too timid, that I was too ready to run away from danger; but it is hard for any one but myself readily to appreciate my horror of a sentence to imprisonment or convict labor for life.”

“Oh, horrible!” said his wife, with tears in her eyes.  “Then thee would have despaired indeed.”

“No,” said he; “I should not even have had that consolation.  Despair is a welcome to death.  A man who cannot die cannot truly despair.  But do not let us talk upon such a melancholy subject.”

“No, no,” cried Mrs. Crowder; “I am glad thee left those wretched jewels behind thee.  And thee got away safely?”

“Oh, yes; I had some money left.  I traveled by night and concealed myself by day, and so got out of Spain.  Soon after I crossed the Pyrenees I found myself penniless, and was obliged to work my way.”

“Poverty again!” exclaimed Mrs. Crowder.  “It is dreadful to hear so much of it.  If thee could only have carried away with thee one of thy diamonds, thee might have cracked it up into little pieces, and thee might have sold these, one at a time, without suspicion.”

“I never thought of being a vender of broken diamonds, and there is nothing suspicious about honest labor.  The object of my present endeavors was to reach England, and I journeyed northward.  It was nearly a month after I had entered France that I was at a little village on the Garonne, repairing a stone wall which divided a field from the road, and I assure you I was very glad to get this job.