"INCREDIBLE!"
A prosperous, self-reliant man, well built, well dressed and well
pleased with himself, sat at a desk in his private office. It was the
senior partner of the firm--a well known firm of Fifth Avenue jewelers.
Being a wise man, he was wise enough to enjoy a reasonable pride in
his own wisdom; also in his own pleasing personality, and in his own
good face and figure. Now, sixty years of age, he had, moreover,
enjoyed a quarter century of success--the reward, perhaps, of his own
foresight in being the son of a prosperous father. He had inherited a
well established business. As a leading member of a fashionable church
he was grateful to himself, and to his Creator, for these, his many
blessings.
Another well-dressed man--but younger than himself--entered abruptly
and stood beside his desk. The Senior Partner looked up from his work,
nodded, and smiled.
"Good morning, William."
"Good morning, Uncle Fred."
William was dapper, even more up-to-date in appearance than his uncle.
Although more carefully attired, he was not so well dressed. For
William's hair was so very smooth, and all that pertained to him so
aggressively fresh and clean, his clothes so faultlessly in fit, his
cravat, his scarf pin, his hair and his eyes such a pleasing harmony
in shade and color as to divert the beholder's attention from his
sensible face. In appearance William was unjust to himself, giving the
impression, to strangers, of a vain or frivolous person. He was, on the
contrary, a very intelligent man. Also, he was good. At the present
moment there were signs of suppressed excitement in this cleanest of
clean faces.
"Well," said the Senior Partner, "out with it."
"You remember Cyrus Alton, don't you, Uncle Fred?"
"No."
"Well, you met him some years ago. It was he who saved me from breaking
my neck in the amateur circus at school."
"Oh! And he has regretted it ever since?"
William smiled. "No, sir. I hope not. But it was a mighty plucky thing
to do. I fell from the trapeze and he was on the ground beneath. When
he saw me coming, instead of jumping from under, like a sensible boy,
he held out his arm to break the fall. It threw his shoulder out of
joint, but saved me a broken neck--so we all thought."
"Yes, I remember now. It _was_ a plucky thing. It showed courage and
presence of mind. How old was he?"
"About my age: twelve, I guess, or thirteen."
"He certainly played the hero on that day. Has he lived up to it?"
"I don't know. I have hardly seen him since we left school. I always
liked him. We were great cronies--always together."
"Mighty lucky you were together on that occasion. What's his
occupation, now?"
"Oh, chemistry and electricity. Science generally, I guess. But I don't
think the world has been treating him well. His clothes are kind of
ancient, and he looks hard up. He lives up in Massachusetts, in some
little town or village. It's a dozen years since I have seen him, until
he came in, a few minutes ago, with a curious kind of stone. He doesn't
know what it is, and wants to find out. Wants us to tell him. It's
beyond me, though. Would you mind seeing him just a minute, and looking
at it?"
"A stone, did you say?"
"Yes, sir."
"What kind of a stone?"
"That's just what he doesn't know, nor I either."
"All right, show him in."
To the hero of the amateur circus came a cordial greeting from the
Senior Partner, who alluded in a most friendly manner to that historic
occasion. But were he not familiar with the story he would have found
difficulty in recognizing the present visitor as the hero of such a
day. For that was a deed requiring--to say nothing of courage--quick
decision, quick action and that perfect confidence in physical strength
which we attribute to the trained athlete. These wide-awake qualities
were not suggested in any degree by the slow moving, sleepy eyed
young man of slender figure to whom Hurry seemed a stranger. This
man was a dreamer. But the Senior Partner had perhaps forgotten that
the brightest pages of human history have been furnished by dreamers
stirred to action. Moreover, it was clearly evident that this young man
and Prosperity were not on friendly terms. And the dark color beneath
his eyes seemed to indicate loss of sleep or nervous strain. Now the
Senior Partner had never been in love with Poverty. He had the same
sort of sympathy for it that Virtue has for Vice; or that Cleanliness
has for Dirt. But he was determined, on William's account, to treat his
old friend with proper consideration.
After a short conversation, retrospective and educational, the visitor
laid in the hand of the Senior Partner what appeared to be a large
glass door-knob. It was octagonal in shape with a convex top, and was
broken at the stem. The color was a pale, apple green. The Senior
Partner adjusted his glasses and politely examined it. He examined it
with the same tactful consideration he would show to any well meaning
person who believes his imitation pearl a priceless gem. This case,
however, was certainly unusual. The man who could hand you a very large
glass door knob and ask your opinion on it, as an expert in gems,
required special treatment. And when the Senior Partner studied the
visitor's face for some outward indications of the amazing credulity
within, he searched in vain. Instead of the eager eyes and parted lips
of a touch-and-go enthusiast hoping for sudden wealth, he encountered a
firm, though boyish mouth, and two calm, dark, almost drowsy eyes that
met his own with a tranquil sanity, having no relation, apparently, to
their owner's misguided errand. However, the Senior Partner knew from
experience that exteriors were deceptive.
While hesitating for words that might reveal, in the gentlest manner,
the fact that the object was worthless, his nephew spoke, and in a tone
of eager curiosity.
"What is it, Uncle Fred? What can it be?"
"That's hard to say. It is rather large for a door knob, or the stopper
of any human decanter. It might be the pendant of a chandelier."
"I mean what is it made of? What is the material?"
"You mean what kind of glass?"
"Yes, sir; if it--if it _is_ glass."
"Then you think it is not glass?"
"That's what we want to find out."
This uncle was not misled by his nephew's earnestness. He knew William,
and he knew him to be a ready believer in interesting things; one
who could pin his faith on whatever he really wished to believe. And
the uncle had learned that this capacity, combined with a lively
imagination, became a perilous guide in matters of business. However,
he held the object higher, between his eyes and the window.
"You think it might be rock crystal?" Then, turning to the visitor,
"What is your own opinion, Mr. Alton?"
"Oh, I have no opinion; only hopes."
"And what are your hopes?"
Now Cyrus Alton had easily divined the Senior Partner's thoughts. "Hope
is so inexpensive," he answered, "that I have been indulging in the
brightest kind. But if I am flying too high I can easily come to earth
again. Is it nothing but glass, after all?"
"Oh, I don't say that."
But the Senior Partner still marveled that any educated person should
prove so gullible as to be deceived by this object in his hand. He
looked again, and more carefully, at the visitor's face. This time
the boyish mouth seemed to indicate nothing but inexperience. The
heavy lidded eyes, however, calmly returned the searching gaze, as if
they themselves were searching;--yet in a sleepy way, it seemed to
the Senior Partner. And the Senior Partner was strengthened in his
conviction that a man with those eyes and with such a mouth could
believe almost anything. Yet he liked the young man's face. His voice
was pleasant, and his manner of speech, while punctiliously polite and
considerate of others, indicated decision and self-reliance.
"But, Uncle Fred," said William, "it is so heavy for its size. And it's
cold, like a diamond. And it has that oily feeling on the polished
face. It surely is not an artificial stone."
"No, possibly not. But the color, this pale, apple green, while an
exquisite tint, is not usual in diamonds."
"But the famous 'Dresden' is that color, isn't it?"
"Yes, I believe so; but the famous 'Dresden' is smaller than a paving
stone. This object, as you see, if a natural stone, must have been
nearly twice its present dimensions before cutting. And even now it is
fully twice the size of any diamond of which we have ever heard. You
young gentlemen will admit that it must be the house of an exceedingly
prosperous person where bulky door knobs were composed of single
diamonds."
Nephew William frowned and drummed with his fingers on the top of the
desk.
"And I doubt," continued the Senior Partner with his pleasant smile,
"if there are many mines that yield jewels the size of ostrich eggs."
Cyrus Alton's eyes, in a dreamy way, were fixed upon the stone.
"Couldn't this have come from some other planet?"
"Possibly, as a meteorite. But precious stones have not the habit of
coming from that direction. However, nothing concerning astronomy can
surprise us. Might I ask where you found it, Mr. Alton?"
Mr. Alton hesitated. As he drew a hand across his forehead the
Senior Partner and his nephew noticed a hole in the faded and shiny
coat sleeve; also that the linen cuff with its frayed edges had no
fastenings. William's silent guess was correct. "The poor chap has had
to sell his cuff buttons."
"If you don't mind, sir, I would rather not answer that question just
at present."
"Certainly. Of course not! Excuse my asking."
"I am the one to apologize, sir. It is a most natural question, and I
will answer it later."
"Of course, Mr. Alton, you understand my asking that question. The
answer might give us light that would solve the riddle. If, for
instance, you found it among broken fragments in a glass factory, we
might be prejudiced regarding its ancestry."
"No. It was many miles from any factory."
"On the other hand, if unearthed in a diamond mine, or discovered on
the forehead of a Hindoo god it's claim to distinction would be more
clearly defined."
"Yes, I suppose so. But I thought an expert might judge the value of a
stone without knowing its history."
"Certainly, certainly. But sometimes a ray of light on a doubtful
subject facilitates a decision. If this majestic door knob, fragment
of a balustrade, pendant to a chandelier, or whatever its original
purpose--if this object is a diamond, Mr. Alton, it means a fortune to
its owner. And I sincerely wish it were a diamond."
"But you know it isn't?"
"I don't say that; but no lapidary would ever cut a diamond as this is
cut." Then, with a friendly smile as he handed it back to its owner,
"If William here, or anybody else should offer you real money for
it----"
"You advise me to take it."
The Senior Partner smiled and nodded. Cyrus Alton rose. "I thank you
sincerely, sir, for this interview and for your opinion on my bogus
gem." The Senior Partner also rose, and in shaking hands laid his other
hand on the visitor's shoulder. "It may console you, Mr. Alton, to
know that you are not the first person--nor the hundredth, for that
matter--to be undeceived here in this office. The brightest hopes,
especially with would-be pearls and diamonds, often vanish even more
swiftly than they come."
While the smiling, leisurely mouth of Cyrus was getting ready to reply,
a door opened, and a man entered. It was a short, stout man with fierce
black eyebrows, black eyes and a heavy black beard, all in striking
contrast to the whitest and baldest of heads.
"Ah, Mr. Bressani!" exclaimed the Senior Partner. "You are just the
man!" After presenting Mr. Bressani to the visitor he said: "Give us
the truth about this stone. What is it?" And he took the stone from
Cyrus and handed it to the new arrival.
Now Mr. Bressani was more than an expert. His instinct in the matter
of gems was abnormal. It was something more than instinct. It was a
singular, innate sense; one of those unexplained faculties that enables
its possessor to judge offhand, with certainty and precision, where
others must weigh and reason. In important matters he was sought by
jewelers. And there was no recorded case in which he had been deceived.
Now, as he held the doubtful object in his fat, white fingers, he
suspected from the smile on the face of the Senior Partner that a joke
was in the air. When he saw what was in his hand--apparently a piece
of greenish glass--he raised his heavy black eyebrows, and, with a
sidelong glance, studied the faces of the three men, one after another,
to make sure they were not laughing at him. Nephew William smiled but
shook his head. "No, we are serious. Tell us what you think."
Still doubtful, Mr. Bressani held it nearer his eye, turned it over
in his large, baby fingers, moved it slowly up and down, evidently
guessing its weight, and slowly passed a thumb over its surface.
Then, as if surprised, he stepped hastily to the window and held it
between his eyes and the light. Wheeling about, his eyebrows darted
up in surprise. These eyebrows, thick and heavy, flew heavenward so
swiftly and they traveled so far that they seemed to pull upon his big
black eyes to twice their usual size and roundness. These astonished
orbs he rolled toward the three men as if startled by a miracle. They
proclaimed a bewildering, overwhelming astonishment that his half-open
lips could not express.
[Illustration: "BUT WHO EVER SAW SUCH A DIAMOND?"--_Page 199_]
"Why, it's a diamond!"