“But I’m starting for England the first thing to-morrow,” I objected.

“Oh! you must put that off for the present,” was the decided reply.  “I’ll be here about eleven, and we’ll talk over what’s best to be done.  Good-night!” and the little fellow held out his hand and strutted off.

I slept very little that night, as you may imagine, and all sorts of vague ideas came into my head as to what I should do with the wonderful power which had so mysteriously come within my grasp.

I had arrived at no definite decision as to what was best to be done, however, by eleven the next morning, when, punctual to the minute, Shin Shira, looking very spruce and alert, knocked at my door.

I noticed with considerable interest that he wore in his turban the diamond which I had so often admired, and he saw me looking at it at once.

“Yes,” he said, with a series of little nods, “it was very easy.  An hour ago I called on the Chief Magistrate, and found him full of apologies and quite convinced that he had made a grievous mistake.  It appears that the original diamond, which Mustapha stole, when found, had some of the gold setting still attached to it, proving beyond doubt that it was the missing jewel, so that my own was returned to me; and the Magistrate even insisted on providing a new aigrette and in having it replaced in my turban by a skilled person.  So here it is,” and he took off his head-dress and regarded it with considerable pride.  “But now to your affairs.  I am still in favour of the idea of the diamonds.”

“But how—­” I began, when Shin Shira interrupted me.

“Are you game for a very exciting adventure?” said he.

“I—­don’t know.”  I hesitated.  “I seem to have had about enough of exciting adventures.”

“It will be something to write about,” suggested the Dwarf, “and will undoubtedly make your fortune.”

“Well,” I said, “what is it?  Let’s hear.”

“Do you remember where Sinbad the Sailor got his diamonds from?”

“Yes, of course!” I replied, for I knew my Arabian Nights by heart.

“Very well, then,” said Shin Shira.  “All you’ve got to do is to get the Slave of the Lamp to bring us the Roc, which I happen to know is still alive; we can then fasten ourselves to his claws, and he will fly back to his home with us, and there, as you know, the ground is strewn with precious stones.”

“But why not send the Slave for them?” I argued.

“He evidently doesn’t know where they are, and it’s as well to keep him ignorant on the subject, in case the lamp passed out of your power, in which case he might use his knowledge in favour of his next master.  And, besides, the Roc couldn’t carry him there.”

“He wouldn’t have to,” said I.  “The Slave evidently has the power of being able to transport himself to any place at will.”

“But we don’t know where to direct him to,” said Shin Shira impatiently.  He was evidently bent upon carrying out his project, and at last I somewhat weakly consented to his proposal.