E-text prepared by Ed Ferris
THE DIAMOND MASTER
by
JACQUES FUTRELLE
Author of "Elusive Isabel," "The Thinking Machine," etc.
Illustrated by Herman Pfeifer
Indianapolis
The Bobbs-Merrill Company
Publishers
1909
[Frontispiece]
CONTENTS
I THE FIRST DIAMOND II TWEEDLEDUM AND TWEEDLEDEE III THURSDAY AT THREE IV THE UNLIMITED SUPPLY V THE ASTUTE MR. BIRNES VI THE MYSTERIOUS WOMAN VII A WINGED MESSENGERVIII SOME CONJECTURES IX AND MORE DIAMONDS! X THE BIG GAME XI THE SILENT BELL XII THE THIRD DEGREEXIII MR. CZENKI APPEARS XIV CAUGHT IN THE NET XV THE TRUTH IN PART XVI MR. CZENKI EXPLAINSXVII THE GREAT CUBE
CHAPTER I
THE FIRST DIAMOND
There were thirty or forty personally addressed letters, the dailyheritage of the head of a great business establishment; and a plain,yellow-wrapped package about the size of a cigarette-box, some threeinches long, two inches wide and one inch deep. It was neatly tiedwith thin scarlet twine, and innocent of markings except for thesuperscription in a precise, copperplate hand, and the smudge of thepostmark across the ten-cent stamp in the upper right-hand corner. Theimprint of the cancellation, faintly decipherable, showed that thepackage had been mailed at the Madison Square substation at half-pastseven o'clock of the previous evening.
Mr. Harry Latham, president and active head of the H. Latham Company,manufacturing jewelers in Fifth Avenue, found the letters and thepackage on his desk when he entered his private office a few minutespast nine o'clock. The simple fact that the package bore no returnaddress or identifying mark of any sort caused him to pick it up andexamine it, after which he shook it inquiringly. Then, with kindlingcuriosity, he snipped the scarlet thread with a pair of silverscissors, and unfolded the wrappings. Inside was a glazed paper box,such as jewelers use, but still there was no mark, no printing, eitheron top or bottom.
The cover of the box came off in Mr. Latham's hand, disclosing a bedof white cotton. He removed the downy upper layer, and there—there,nestling against the snowy background, blazed a single splendiddiamond, of six, perhaps seven, carats. Myriad colors played in itsblue-white depths, sparkling, flashing, dazzling in the subduedlight. Mr. Latham drew one long quick breath, and walked over to thewindow to examine the stone in the full glare of day.
A minute or more passed, a minute of wonder, admiration, allurement,but at last he ventured to lift the diamond from the box. It wasperfect, so far as he could see; perfect in cutting and color anddepth, prismatic, radiant, bewilderingly gorgeous. Its value? Evenhe could not offer an opinion—only the appraisement of his expertwould be worth listening to on that point. But one thing he knewinstantly—in the million-dollar stock of precious stones storedaway in the vaults of the H. Latham Company, there was not one tocompare with this.
At length, as he stared at it fascinated, he remembered that hedidn't know its owner, and for the second time he examined thewrappings, the box inside and out, and finally he lifted out thelower layer of cotton, seeking a fugitive card or mark of some sort.Surely the owner of so valuable a stone would not be so careless asto send it this way, through the mail—unregistered—without somemethod of identification! Another shar