The Diamond Thief by Sharon Gosling Page A

“We are nothing like the same! I am not a thief. I will never be like you.”
    She gazed at him steadily, before nodding. “But that is what they are calling you. And you can say whatever you like, but it is what they say that matters in this world. You should know that.”
    “You set out to take something that was not yours,” Thaddeus grated. “Something that you did not earn. Only the worst kind of person – someone that has something wrong with their soul – does that. So now, you will help me get it back – wherever it is – and we will return it to its rightful owner.”
    Rémy shook her head. “I will get it back,” she said, “but I will not return it. I cannot.”
    Thaddeus threw up his hands in anger. “What is wrong with you? Is this how you like to live your life? On the wrong side of the law, with the lowest people you can find?”
    “No,” she said, quietly. “But some of us do not have a choice.”
    “There is always a choice. Always.”
    Rémy Brunel dried her feet and stood up. Even standing as tall as she could, the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. “Not when you have others depending on you,” she said, softly. “Not when everything is down to you… But you will never understand.”
    “We are trying to, my dear,” said the Professor. “But theft is a hard thing to justify. Why are you so determined to take this jewel?”
    “You will never believe me. You will say I am lying, that I am making it up.”
    “Well, you’ve got only yourself to blame for that,” Thaddeus pointed out.
    She made a harsh sound in her throat and turned away as the Professor sighed and held up his hand. “Tell us anyway, Miss Brunel,” he urged. “That can’t hurt, can it?”
    Rémy stared into the fire a little longer, and then shrugged. “Gustave… Gustave said I was cursed. That he was cursed. That he needed the diamond – I do not know, to break the curse, perhaps. He did not get the chance to tell me the whole story.” She turned to look Thaddeus in the eye. “You interrupted.”
    Thaddeus could hardly believe what he was hearing. “My God! A curse now, is it?” He looked at the Professor for help. “She’s making it up as she goes along! She’ll say anything that she thinks will help her!”
    The Professor held up a hand, nodding. “Yes, yes, Thaddeus. And yet…”
    “And yet? How can there be an ‘And yet’?”
    His friend ignored him, addressing only the girl. “The Darya-ye Noor is an Indian jewel, am I right?”
    “Yes, Monsieur. It was mined at Golconda.”
    Thaddeus shook his head. “What difference does it make where the stone came from?”
    The Professor crossed his arms. “My dear Thaddeus, while your excellent brain can rarely said to be at fault, what I do sometimes have an issue with is your penchant for conservatism. You would be amazed what can be learned through a willingness to look outside what would be termed the acceptable in polite London circles.”
    Thaddeus stared at his friend for a moment, and then shook his head. “I don’t even know what that means.”
    The Professor sighed. “All I mean, my dear boy, is that it never hurts to consider the possibilities. I, for example, have been examining new power sources. Steam has transformed our factories, our transport – our lives. But what if there were another, less dangerous, cleaner and more productive method of fuelling our machines? To this end, I have looked into all sorts of theories and myths – including the elusive stories of the efficacy of gemstones.”
    For a moment, Thaddeus was stumped. “Precious stones… as a power source?”
    The Professor shrugged. “To be honest, the idea seems as ludicrous to me as it does to you. But others believe it, and the myths support it, and belief is, as history has taught us, as immovable as fact in the hearts of those who hold it. And so, if neither of you two stole this gem, we must look at other people who may have taken it. And, my dear