_June 15th_
On Saturday afternoon after work according to your instructions I took
one of the unset diamonds with which I am provided to M----'s pawnshop
at No. -- Third Avenue. I was very glad to have the second act of the
drama open, and the fun begin. To tell the truth, I am very weary of
the work bench at Dunsany's this hot weather. If I ever return to my
proper character I will have more sympathy for my workmen. I believe
now that it is not poverty that makes the working classes restless so
much as monotony.
M----'s, as you know, is a large and prosperous three-ball
establishment near Fifty-Seventh street. The proprietor is a youngish
man, a typical pawnbroker, with eyes as hard and bright as shoe
buttons. Such eyes I am sure, would look on at the murder of a parent
unconcerned--if there was anything in it. I believe you are right in
your estimate of the man. Good as his legitimate business appears to
be, he is no doubt not averse to the other kind--if it looks safe.
But he was afraid of me. He offered to lend me money on my diamond,
but declined to purchase. He demanded to know how it had come into my
possession. I replied with a long and affecting tale of the hardships
of an immigrant couple, no longer young. It was our last bit of
property, I said, the stone out of my wife's engagement ring. The ring
itself she still wore with its empty setting. Such was the pathos of
the tale that I almost succeeded in convincing myself that it was true.
It didn't matter, of course, whether the pawnbroker believed it or not,
but it had to be a good story on the face of it, because it would be
fatal to my chances of success if I gave the impression of being a fool.
The hard eyes gave no sign one way or another. One could hardly expect
a pawnbroker to be moved by a hard luck story. He told me to come back
on Monday at noon, and he would see what he could do for me.
I hastened up there as soon as we were released for the lunch hour
to-day. There were two men loitering in the store; men of the same
kidney as the astute proprietor apparently, very sprucely dressed.
M---- himself ignored me for the moment and this precious pair gave me
the "once over" as they say. I could feel their eyes boring into me
like gimlets. However, it is possible to be too sharp to be
discerning. They were deceived. A scarcely perceptible sign passed
between them and the pawnbroker, and the latter suddenly became aware
of the existence of his shabby customer.
He now showed me what he intended for a real friendly air. He couldn't
buy my diamond himself, he said, but seeing he felt so sorry for me he
would send me to a diamond broker he knew, who would do business with
me if I satisfied him it was on the level. He gave me an address near
by. I enclose the card, but neither the name nor the address means
anything of course. I went there at once, risking a call down from the
foreman if I was late getting back to the shop.
It was a room on the second floor of a typical Third avenue house, shop
below, furnished rooms above, and the elevated road pounding by the
windows. Evidently there had been a hasty attempt to make it look like
an office; a desk had been brought in and the bed removed. Behind the
desk sat a fat man rolling a cigar between his thick lips, and trying
to look as if he were not expecting me. He looked prosperous in a
common way, with his silk hat on the back of his head, and his immense
gaping cutaway. His face was red and what passes for good-humoured
with little pig eyes lost in fat. A huge moustache with curled ends,
decorated it, the kind of moustache that I thought even New York
politicians had given up nowadays. In a phrase, the man looked like a
ward leader of fifteen years ago. The most characteristic thing about
him was his bustling energy, unusual in one so fat.
This alleged diamond broker was making out to be very much occupied
with business. He kept me waiting a while. As soon as he took the
diamond in his hand I saw that he knew nothing about stones. He didn't
even have a glass to examine it. Evidently the word had been passed to
him that it was all right. But if he knew nothing about diamonds, he
was well experienced in humanity. He put me through a gruelling
cross-examination which I supported as best I could. My delicate
problem was to lead him to suspect I was a crook, without letting him
think I was a fool. To this end I elaborated the story of my old
wife's engagement ring. He listened to it with a leer in his little
eyes, as much as to say: "Pretty good old fellow! But you needn't take
all that trouble with me!"
He expressed himself as satisfied, and we passed to the discussion of
the price. I asked something near the stone's real value. He laughed,
and offered me a fifth of that. We were presently hotly engaged in
humankind's first game, bargaining. He loved it. Unfortunately I was
handicapped by the necessity of getting back to work. We agreed on a
price which was about a quarter of the stone's value. No doubt he
would have had more respect for me if I had held out longer. He paid
me out of an enormous roll of greasy bills.
I was sorry to see the stone go. It was a good one, nearly two carats.
It was not safe of course to mark it in any visible way, but I have had
this and the other decoy diamonds carefully described and photographed,
so that we will have no difficulty in identifying them later.
As I was about to leave he shook my hand in friendly fashion, and still
with that indescribable leer, expressed a hope that he might do further
business together.