. . . that glittering pyramid of light, broad as a crown piece, alive with an icy fire that seems to shine from its very heart. It’s a matchless, evil thing, and shouldn’t be a diamond at all, but a ruby, red as the blood of the thousands who’ve died for it. But it wasn’t that, or its terrible beauty, that had shaken me . . . it was the memory, all unexpected. Aye, I’d seen it before.
“The Mountain of Light,” says the Queen complacently. “That is what the nabobs called it, did they not Sir Harry?”
“Indeed, ma’am,” says I, a mite hoarse. “
Koh-i-Noor.”
Flashman and the Mountain of Light,
pp.16-17,
Fontana Paperback edition, 1991.
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