The Jewel Thief

A jewel thief stood in the city court yesterday, and the room was very quiet as the judge read the case aloud.

The thief, a thin man of forty, had broken into the National Museum on a winter night six months ago. He had switched off the alarm, climbed through a high window, and taken a famous blue diamond from its glass case. By morning, the diamond was gone, and so was he. He was arrested three weeks later at the airport, with the diamond hidden inside a child's toy in his bag.

In court, his lawyer tried hard to help him. She told the judge that her client had never hurt anyone, that the diamond had come back undamaged, and that he was sorry. The thief himself said only one quiet sentence. He said that he had simply wanted to hold something beautiful.

But the evidence against him was strong. A camera had filmed him on the museum stairs. His fingerprints were found on the empty case. The judge listened to everything, then spoke. The diamond, she said, belonged to everyone in the country, not to one man's pocket.

The thief was found guilty, and he was sent to prison for four years. As the guards led him out, he looked back at the courtroom once. He did not look angry. He looked, somehow, like a man who had got exactly what he expected.