As for von Heumann, it had been enough to place
the drenched wad first on his mustache, and then to hold it
between his gaping lips; thereafter the intruder had climbed both
ways across his shins without eliciting a groan.
And here was the prize--this pearl as large as a filbert--with a
pale pink tinge like a lady's fingernail--this spoil of a
filibustering age--this gift from a European emperor to a South
Sea chief. We gloated over it when all was snug. We toasted it
in whiskey and soda-water laid in overnight in view of the great
moment. But the moment was greater, more triumphant, than our
most sanguine dreams. All we had now to do was to secrete the
gem (which Raffles had prised from its setting, replacing the
latter), so that we could stand the strictest search and yet take
it ashore with us at Naples; and this Raffles was doing when I
turned in. I myself would have landed incontinently, that night,
at Genoa and bolted with the spoil; he would not hear of it, for
a dozen good reasons which will be obvious.
On the whole I do not think that anything was discovered or
suspected before we weighed anchor; but I cannot be sure. It is
difficult to believe that a man could be chloroformed in his
sleep and feel no tell-tale effects, sniff no suspicious odor, in
the morning. Nevertheless, von Heumann reappeared as though
nothing had happened to him, his German cap over his eyes and his
mustaches brushing the peak.
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