“Half an hour later Parratt saw the mate stand on the rail and lean outboard, holding on to the mizzen-shrouds while he stared along the ship’s side.  Then he jumped on to the deck and shouted angrily:  ’Forward, there!  What the deuce is that man up to under the starboard cat-head?’

“The men on the forecastle rushed to the side and looked over; two of them leaned over the rail with the bight of a rope between them, and a third came running aft to the mate.  ‘It’s Foucault, sir,’ Parratt heard him say.  ‘He’s hanged hisself from the cat-head.’

“As soon as he was off duty, Parratt made his way to his dead comrade’s chest, and, opening it with his pick-lock, took out the pearl.  It was now his sole property, and, as the ship was within an hour or two of her destination, he thought he had little to fear from its murdered owner.  As soon as the vessel was alongside the wharf, he would slip ashore and get rid of the jewel, even if he sold it at a comparatively low price.  The thing looked perfectly simple.

“In actual practice, however, it turned out quite otherwise.  He began by accosting a well-dressed stranger and offering the pendant for fifty pounds; but the only reply that he got was a knowing smile and a shake of the head.  When this experience had been repeated a dozen times or more, and he had been followed up and down the streets for nearly an hour by a suspicious gendarme, he began to grow anxious.  He visited quite a number of ships and yachts in the harbour, and at each refusal the price of his treasure came down, until he was eager to sell it for a few francs.  But still no one would have it.  Everyone took it for granted that the pearl was a sham, and most of the persons whom he accosted assumed that it had been stolen.  The position was getting desperate.  Evening was approaching—­the time of the dreaded dog-watches—­and still the pearl was in his possession.  Gladly would he now have given it away for nothing, but he dared not try, for this would lay him open to the strongest suspicion.

“At last, in a by-street, he came upon the shop of a curio-dealer.  Putting on a careless and cheerful manner, he entered and offered the pendant for ten francs.  The dealer looked at it, shook his head, and handed it back.

“‘What will you give me for it?’ demanded Parratt, breaking out into a cold sweat at the prospect of a final refusal.

“The dealer felt in his pocket, drew out a couple of francs, and held them out.

“‘Very well,’ said Parratt.  He took the money as calmly as he could, and marched out of the shop, with a gasp of relief, leaving the pendant in the dealer’s hand.

“The jewel was hung up in a glass case, and nothing more was thought about it until some ten days later, when an English tourist, who came into the shop, noticed it and took a liking to it.  Thereupon the dealer offered it to him for five pounds, assuring him that it was a genuine pearl, a statement that, to his amazement, the stranger evidently believed.  He was then deeply afflicted at not having asked a higher price, but the bargain had been struck, and the Englishman went off with his purchase.