_A Business Transaction._
Outside the police court, Philip drew as invigorating a breath of fresh
air as the atmosphere of Clerkenwell permitted. He knew that an
inspector of police and a couple of constables were gazing at him
curiously through an office window, and the knowledge quickened his
wits.
It was worth even more than his liberty to realize that, in all
reasonable probability, his meteor was safe as yet. The police had
failed in their quest; whom else had he to fear? The company had
informed his mother that her tenancy of Johnson's Mews would not be
disturbed before the thirty-first. Of course, her death was known to the
firm, but their written promise to her was verbally confirmed to Philip
by the manager. It was now the twenty-fifth. He had five clear days,
perhaps six, in which to make all his arrangements. The forced seclusion
of the prison had helped him in one way--it gave him a program, a
detailed plan. Each step had been carefully thought out, and
Isaacstein's office was the first stage in the campaign.
A prowling hansom passed. Philip whistled.
"Where's the fare?" demanded the cabman, angrily, looking up and down
the street.
"Drive me to Holborn Viaduct, quick," said the boy, with his foot on the
step.
Cabby eyed him with scorn.
"What's the gyme?" he growled. "D'yer tyke me for a mug, or what?"
"Oh, don't talk so much," cried Philip, impatiently. "Are you afraid I
won't pay you? See! If you lose no more time, I will give you this," and
he held up a two-shilling piece for the cabman's edification.
It is difficult to surprise your true Cockney whip. The man carefully
folded the evening paper he had been reading, stuffed it under the strap
which held his rug and cape, and chirruped to his horse:
"Kim up, lazy bones! We've got a millionaire crossin'-sweeper inside.
What, ho! Any bloomin' perfession is better'n drivin' a keb."
The run was shorter than Philip anticipated, but, true to his promise,
he proffered the two shillings.
The cabman looked at him. Something in the boy's face seemed to strike
him as curious, and, notwithstanding Philip's rags, his skin was
scrupulously clean.
"Gow on," he cried. "I'll make yer a present of that trip. 'Ope it'll
giv yer a fresh stawt in the world. Kim up, will yer!" And the hansom
swung away into the traffic, leaving the boy standing on the pavement on
the north side of the viaduct. He made a mental note of the cab's
number. It was easy to remember--three 8's and a 9--and walked on toward
Hatton Garden.
Meanwhile the cabman, after varying luck, drove to his yard, changed
horses, secured a fare to a theater, and joined the Haymarket rank while
he took a meal in the cabmen's shelter.
"What's to-day's bettin' on the National?" he asked a friend.
The evening paper was passed and he cast an eye over its columns.
Suddenly he rapped out a string of expressions that amazed his
companions.
"What's the matter, Jimmie? Missed a twenty to one chance at Lincoln?"
"Great Scott! I thought he'd lift the roof off."
"Go easy, mate. There's lydies outside."
But the cabman still swore and gazed round-eyed at the sheet. And this
is what he read:
"The boy, Philip Morland, whose possession of a collection of
meteoric diamonds of great value has created so much sensation, was
brought up on remand to-day at the Clerkenwell Police Court, and
released. Mr. Abingdon thought fit to hear the case in camera, so
this ragged urchin is wandering about London again with a pocketful
of gems. He was last seen entering a cab in the neighborhood of the
police court, and inquiry by our representative at the Hatton
Garden offices of Mr. Isaacstein, the diamond merchant, whose name
has figured in connection with the case, elicited the information
that Morland called there about 3 P.M. Mr. Isaacstein positively
refused to make any further statement for publication, but it is
probable that developments in this peculiar and exciting affair
will take place at any moment."
In a word, the journalistic world was exceedingly wroth with both Mr.
Abingdon and the Jew for balking it of a very readable bit of news. No
effort would be spared to defeat their obvious purpose. Philip must be
discovered by hook or by crook, and badgered incessantly until he
divulged the secret of the meteor.
At last the cabman became lucid.
"I'm done," he groaned. "My brains are a fuzzball. 'Ere! Some one drink
my beer. I'm goin' in fer cow-cow. I 'ad this young spark in my keb
to-d'y an' didn't know it. 'E offered me two bob, 'e did, an' I stood
'im a drive as a treat, 'e looked sich a scarecrow."
"Who's next?" cried a raucous voice at the door.
"I am," roared the disappointed one.
"Well, look sharp. There's a hold gent a-wavin' 'is humbreller like
mad----"
"Keep 'im. Don't let 'im go. I'll be there in 'arf a tick. Who knows!
P'raps it's Rothschild."
Meanwhile Philip did not hesitate an instant once he reached
Isaacstein's office. A new note in his character was revealing itself.
Always resolute, fearless and outspoken, now he was confident. He pushed
open the swing door with the manner of one who expects his fellows to
bow before him. Was he not rich--able to command the services of
men--why should he falter? He forgot his rags, forgot the difficulties
and dangers that might yet beset his path, for in very truth he had
achieved but little actual progress since he first entered that office
five days earlier.
But he had suffered much since then, and suffering had strengthened him.
Moreover, he had taken the measure of Isaacstein. There was a score to
be wiped off before that worthy and he entered into amicable business
relations.
The instant the immature Jew behind the grille set eyes on Philip, he
bounded back from the window and gazed at him with a frightened look.
Had this young desperado broken out of prison and come to murder them
all?
"Help! help!" he shouted. "Murder!"
Clerks came running from the inner office, among them the elderly man
who interfered in Philip's behalf on the last occasion.
"Make that idiot shut up," said Philip, calmly, "and tell Mr. Isaacstein
I am here."
The office boy was silenced, and the excitement calmed down. Yes, the
diamond merchant was in. If Philip would walk upstairs to the waiting
room, his presence would be announced.
"Thank you," he said; "but kindly see that this urchin does not let
others know I am here. I don't want a crowd to be gathered in the street
when I come out."
Such cool impudence from a ragamuffin was intolerable, or nearly so. But
Isaacstein ruled his minions with a rod of iron, and they would fain
wait the little man's pleasure ere they ventured their wrath on the boy.
Besides, they were afraid of Philip. Like most people in London, they
had read the newspaper reports of the police court proceedings, and they
were awed by his strangely incomprehensible surroundings.
So he was silently ushered upstairs, and soon he caught the thick-voiced
order of Isaacstein:
"Show him in."
The Jew, however, dived into his private sanctum before Philip entered
the general office. The boy found him there, seated at his table.
The duel began with questions:
"How did you get out so soon? You were remanded for a week."
"Are you going to send for a policeman?"
"Don't be rude, boy, but answer me."
"I am not here to satisfy your curiosity, Mr. Isaacstein. I have called
simply on a matter of business. It is sufficient for you to know that
Mr. Abingdon has set me at liberty and restored my property to me. Do
you wish to deal with me or not?"
The diamond merchant tingled with anger. He was not accustomed to being
browbeaten even by the representatives of the De Beers Company, yet here
was a callow youngster addressing him in this outrageous fashion,
betraying, too, an insufferable air of contempt in voice and manner. He
glared at Philip in silent wrath for an instant.
The boy smiled. He took from his pocket the paper of diamonds and began
to count them. The action said plainly:
"You know you cannot send me away. If I go to your trade rivals you will
lose a magnificent opportunity. You are in my hands. No matter how rude
I am to you, you must put up with it."
Nevertheless, the Jew made an effort to preserve his tottering dignity.
"Do you think," he said, "that you are behaving properly in treating a
man of my position in such a way in his own office?"
In his own office--that was the sting of it.
The head of the firm of Isaacstein & Co., of London, Amsterdam and
Kimberley, to be bearded in such fashion in his own particular shrine!
Why, the thing was monstrous!
Philip looked him squarely in the eyes.
"Mr. Isaacstein," he said, calmly, "have you forgotten that you caused
me to be arrested as a thief and dragged, handcuffed, through the open
streets by a policeman? I have spent five days in jail because of you.
At the moment when I was praising your honesty you were conveying secret
signals to your clerks in the belief that I was something worse than a
pickpocket. Was your treatment of me so free from blame at our first
meeting as to serve as a model at the second?"
The chair was creaking now continuously; the Jew swung from side to side
during this lecture. He strove hard to restrain himself, but the
feverish excitement of Saturday returned with greater intensity than
ever. He jumped up, and Philip imagined for a second that robbery with
violence was imminent.
"Confound it all, boy!" yelled the merchant, "what was I to do when a
ragged loafer like you came in and showed me a diamond worth a thousand
pounds and told me he had dozens, hundreds, more like it? Did you expect
me to risk standing in the dock by your side? Who could have given
fairer evidence in your behalf than I did? Who proved that you could not
have stolen the stones? Whom have you to thank for being at liberty now,
but the expert who swore that no such diamonds had been seen before in
this world?"
Philip waited until the man's passion had exhausted itself. Then he went
on coolly:
"That is your point of view, I suppose. Mine is that you could have
satisfied yourself concerning all those points without sending me to
prison. However, this discussion is beside the present question. Will
you buy my diamonds?"
Isaacstein recovered his seat. He wiped his face vigorously, but the
trading instinct conquered his fury.
"Yes," he snapped. "How much do you want for them?"
"I notice that their value steadily increases. The first time you saw
this diamond"--and he held up the stone originally exhibited to the
Jew--"you said it was worth six or seven hundred pounds. To-day you
name a thousand. However, I will take your own valuation for this
unimportant collection, and accept fifty thousand pounds."
"Oh, you will, will you! And how will you have it, in notes or gold?"
He could not help this display of cheap sarcasm. The situation was
losing its annoyance; the humor of it was beginning to dawn on him. When
his glance rested more critically on Philip, the boy's age, the poverty
of his circumstances, the whole fantastic incongruity of the affair,
forced his recognition.
Not unprepared for such a retort, Philip gathered the stones together,
and twisted the ends of the paper. Evidently the parcel was going back
into his pocket. He glanced at a clock, too, which ticked solemnly over
the office door.
"Here, what are you doing?" cried Isaacstein.
"Going to some one who will deal with me in a reasonable manner. It is
not very late yet. I suppose there are plenty of firms like yours in
Hatton Garden, or I can go back to Mr. Wilson----"
"Sit down. Sit down," growled the Jew, vainly striving to cloak his
nervousness by a show of grim jocosity. "I never saw such a boy in my
life. You are touchy as gunpowder. I was only joking."
"I am not joking, Mr. Isaacstein. Your price is my price--fifty thousand
pounds."
"Do you think I carry that amount of money in my purse?" demanded
Isaacstein, striving desperately to think out some means whereby he
could get Philip into more amiable mood, when, perchance, the true
story of the gems might be revealed.
"No," was the answer. "Even if you gave it to me I should not take it
away. I want you to advance, say fifty pounds, to-day. I require
clothes--and other things. Then, to-morrow, you can bring me to a bank,
and pay a portion of the purchase price to my credit, giving me at the
same time a written promise to pay the remainder within a week, or a
month--any reasonable period, in fact."
The diamond merchant was quickly becoming serious, methodical, as he
listened. This business-like proposal was the one thing needed to
restore his bewildered faculties.
"Tell me, boy," he said, "who has been advising you?"
"No one."
"Do you mean to say you came here to-day to trade with me without
consulting any other person?"
"I certainly told Mr. Abingdon I was coming, and I feel that I can
always return to him for any advice if I am in a difficulty, but the
offer I have just made is my own."
Watching Isaacstein's face was an interesting operation to Philip. Under
ordinary conditions he might as well expect to find emotion depicted in
a pound of butter as in that oily countenance, with its set expression
molded by years of sharp dealings. But to-day the man was startled out
of all the accustomed grooves of business. He was confronted with a
problem so novel that his experience was not wide enough to embrace it.
So Philip caught a gleam of resentment at the introduction of the
magistrate's name, and he instantly resolved to see Mr. Abingdon again
at the earliest opportunity.
"Oh, he treated you kindly to-day, did he?" snarled Isaacstein.
"Yes, most kindly."
"You don't drink, I suppose?" broke in the other, abruptly.
"No. I am only a boy of fifteen, and do not need stimulants."
He was favored with a sharp glance at this remark, but he bent over his
diamonds again and began to examine them, one by one. He knew that the
action was tantalizing to his companion, and that is why he did it.
Isaacstein went to a sideboard and poured out a stiff glass of brandy.
He swallowed it as an ordinary person takes an oyster.
"That's better," he said, returning to his desk. "Now we can get to
close quarters. Hand over the stones."
Philip did nothing of the sort.
"Why?" he inquired, blandly. "You know all about them. You can hardly
want to examine them so frequently."
"Confound it!" cried Isaacstein, growing red with renewed impatience,
"what more can I do than agree to your terms?"
"I asked you for an advance of fifty pounds. I said nothing about
leaving the diamonds in your charge. Please listen to me. I make no
unreasonable demands. If you wish to keep the stones now you must first
write me a letter stating the agreement between us. If it is right I
will give you the diamonds. If it is not according to my ideas you must
alter it."
"Do you think I mean to swindle you?"
"I have no views on that point. I am only telling you what my conditions
are."
Isaacstein sat back in his chair and regarded Philip fixedly and with as
much calmness as he could summon to his aid. A ray of sunshine illumined
a bald patch on the top of his head, and the boy found himself idly
speculating on developments in the Jew's future life. The man, on his
part, was seeking to read the boy's inscrutable character, but the
fixity of Philip's gaze at his denuded crown disconcerted him again.
"What are you looking at?" he demanded, suddenly.
"I was wondering how you will look when you go to heaven, Mr.
Isaacstein," was the astounding reply.
For some reason it profoundly disturbed his hearer. He wobbled for a
little while, and finally seemed to make up his mind, though he sighed
perplexedly. The Jew was not a bad man. In business he was noted for
exceeding shrewdness combined with strict commercial honesty. But the
case that now presented itself contained all the elements of temptation.
No matter how clever this boy might be, he was but a boy, and
opportunities for cheating him must arrive. If not he, Isaacstein, there
were others. The boy possessed a large store, possibly a very large
store, of rough gems, and in dealing with them his agents could rob him
with impunity. Yet, in answer to an unguarded question, this
extraordinary youth admitted that Isaacstein might merit eternal bliss.
Such an eventuality had not occurred to the Jew himself during
unrecorded years. Now that it was suggested to him it disturbed him.
"You imagine then that I may deal fairly with you?" he said at last.
"Oh, yes. Why should you rob me? You can earn more money than you can
ever need in this world by looking after my interests properly. If only
you will believe this statement it will save you much future worry, I
assure you."
"Were you in earnest when you said that you have an abundance of stones
like those in your hands?"
"So many, Mr. Isaacstein, that you will have some trouble in disposing
of them. I have diamonds as big, as big--let me see--as big as an egg."
The wonder is that the Jew did not faint.
"My God!" he gurgled, "do you know what you are saying? Where are they,
boy? You will be robbed, murdered for their sake. Where are they? Let me
put them in some safe place. I will deal honestly by you. I swear it, by
all that I hold sacred. But you must have them taken care of."
"They are quite safe; be certain of that. Reveal my secret I will not. I
have borne insult and imprisonment to preserve it, so it is not likely I
will yield now to your appeals."
Philip's face lit up with a strange light as this protest left his lips.
The meteor was his mother's bequest. She gave it to him, and she would
safeguard it. Had she failed hitherto? Was not all London ringing with
the news of his fortune, yet what man or woman had discovered the
whereabouts of his treasure? In his pocket he felt the great iron key of
No. 3, Johnson's Mews, and he was as certain now that his hiding place
was unknown as that his mother's spirit was looking down on him from
heaven, and directing his every movement.
The Jew, in spite of his own great lack of composure, saw the fleeting
glimpse of spirituality in the boy's eyes. Puzzled and disturbed though
he was, he made another violent effort to pull his shattered nerves into
order.
"There is no need to talk all day," he said, doggedly. "Now I am going
to tell you something you don't know. If your boast is justified--if you
really own as many diamonds, and as good ones, as you say you own--there
must be a great deal of discretion exercised in putting them on the
market. Diamonds are valuable only because they are rare. There is a
limit to their possible purchasers. If the diamond mines of the world
were to pour all their resources forthwith into the lap of the public,
there would be such a slump that prices would drop fifty, sixty, even
eighty per cent. Do you follow me?"
"Yes," nodded Philip.
A week earlier he would have said, "Yes, sir," but his soul was bitter
yet against Isaacstein.
"Very well. It may take me months, years, to realize your collection. To
do it properly I must have some idea of its magnitude. If there are
exceptionally large stones among it, they will be dealt with separately.
They may rival or eclipse the few historical diamonds of the world, but
their worth can only be measured by the readiness of some fool to pay
hundreds of thousands for them. See?"
"Yes," nodded Philip again. His sententiousness brought the man to the
point.
"Therefore you must take me into your confidence. What quantity of
stones do you possess, and what are their sizes? I must know."
Isaacstein, cooler now, pursed his lips and pressed his thumbs together
until they appeared to be in danger of dislocation. It was his favorite
attitude when engaged in a deal. It signified that he had cornered his
victim. Philip, appealed to in this strictly commercial way, could not
fail to see it was to his own interest to tell his chosen expert the
exact facts, and nothing but the facts.
The boy, singularly unflurried in tone and manner, hazarded an inquiry.
"What amount of ordinary diamonds, in their money value I mean, can you
dispose of readily in the course of a year, Mr. Isaacstein?"
"Oh, two or three hundred thousand pounds' worth; it is a matter largely
dependent on the condition of trade generally. But that may be regarded
as a minimum."
"And the bigger stones, worth many thousands each?"
"It is impossible to say. Taking them in the lump, at values varying
from a thousand each to fancy figures, perhaps fifty thousand pounds'
worth."
"It would be safe to reckon on a quarter of a million a year, all told?"
"Quite safe."
"Then, Mr. Isaacstein, I will supply you with diamonds of that value
every year for many years."
The Jew relaxed the pressure on his thumbs. Indeed he passed a tremulous
hand across his forehead. He was beaten again, and he knew it--worsted
by a gutter snipe in a war of wits.
The contest had one excellent effect. It stopped all further efforts on
Isaacstein's part to wrest Philip's secret from him. Thenceforth he
asked for, and obtained, such diamonds as he needed, and resolutely
forbade himself the luxury of questioning or probing the extent of his
juvenile patron's resources.
But there was a long pause before he found his tongue again. His voice
had lost its aggressiveness when he said:
"In the police court I valued the diamonds you produced at fifty
thousand pounds. It does not necessarily follow that I am prepared to
give such a sum for them at this moment. I might do so as a speculation,
but I take it you do not want me to figure in that capacity. It will be
better for you, safer for me, if I become your agent. I will take your
stones to Amsterdam, have them cut sufficiently to enable dealers to
assess their true worth, and sell them to the best advantage. My charge
will be ten per cent, and I pay all expenses. To-day I will give you
fifty pounds. To-morrow I will take you to a bank and place five
thousand to your credit. Meanwhile, I will give you a receipt for thirty
stones, weighing, in the rough, so many carats, and you, or anyone you
may appoint, can see the sale vouchers subsequently, when I will hand
you the balance after deducting £5,050 and my ten per cent. The total
price may exceed fifty thousand, or it may be less, but I do not think I
will be far out in my estimate. Are you agreeable?"
Some inner monitor told Philip that the Jew was talking on sound
business lines. There was a ring of sincerity in his voice. Apparently
he had thrust temptation aside, and was firmly resolved to be content
with his ten per cent.
And this might well be. Twenty-five thousand pounds a year earned by a
few journeys to the Continent--a few haggling interviews in the Hatton
Garden office! What a gold mine! Moreover, he would be the head man in
the trade. He was that now, in some respects; but under the new
conditions none could gainsay his place at the top. Even the magnates of
Kimberley would be staggered by this new source of supply. What did it
matter if the boy kept to his rags and amazed the world, so long as the
diamonds were forthcoming? It was no silk-hatted gentleman who first
stumbled across the diamond-laden earth of South Africa. Isaacstein had
made up his mind. Fate had thrust this business into his lap. He would
be a fool to lose it out of mere curiosity.
"Yes," said Philip. "I agree to that."
"Samuel!" yelled Isaacstein.
"Coming, sir," was the answering shout, and a flurried clerk appeared.
"Bring in the scales, Samuel."
The scales were brought, and a level space cleared for them on the desk.
Philip, of course, had never before seen an instrument so delicately
adjusted. A breath would serve to depress the balance.
The boy held forth his paper, and poured the contents into the tiny
brass tray of the scales. Samuel's mouth opened and his eyes widened. It
was his first sight of the diamonds.
"Four ounces, eight pennyweights, five grains--six hundred and
twenty-nine carats in thirty stones. Oh, good gracious me!" murmured the
clerk.
Isaacstein checked the record carefully.
"Right!" he said. "Put them in the safe."
Philip raised no protest this time. He knew that the Jew would keep his
word. Indeed, Isaacstein told Samuel to bring him fifty sovereigns, and
ere the man returned he began to write on a sheet of letter paper:
"Received from----Here! what's your name?" he broke in.
"Philip."
"Philip what?"
"That will do to-day, thank you. The next time I call I will give you my
full name and address."
"Please yourself. I am no judge in this matter," and he wrote on:
"Received from Philip, a boy who refuses any other name, but the
same whom I saw in this office on the twentieth inst., and again at
the Clerkenwell Police Court on that date, thirty meteoric diamonds
weighing in the gross six hundred and twenty-nine carats. I hereby
agree to dispose of the same, and to render true account of sales
to the said Philip or his agents. My commission to be ten per
cent.; the expenses payable by me. I have to-day handed the said
Philip fifty pounds in gold, and undertake to place five thousand
pounds to his credit to-morrow with my bankers.
"REUBEN ISAACSTEIN."
After completing this acknowledgment he scribbled something else.
"There," he said, with a sigh of relief, "that is not a very formal
document, but it will suffice. You can get it stamped to-morrow at
Somerset House. Just sign this receipt for fifty pounds."
Philip took the two papers and read them carefully. Isaacstein's
handwriting was a scrawl, but legible enough. The boy reached for a pen
and signed his Christian name. He was on the point of adding his surname
in an unguarded moment, but he felt the Jew's eye on him. So he simply
wrote "Philip" across the stamp at the foot of the receipt.
Isaacstein fully appreciated the incident, and knew that his own
eagerness defeated the chance, all the more powerful because it was
involuntary, of ascertaining the name of this marvelous youth.
Philip gathered up his gold, not without counting the coins. They felt
strangely heavy in his pocket, much heavier than the stones they
replaced. Yet they formed but a thousandth part of the value of those
flintlike pebbles. What a queer problem it was, this ratio of worth
between a few stones and the bright, minted sovereigns.
"What time shall I call to-morrow?" he asked, standing, cap in hand,
ready to take his departure.
"At eleven. But wait one moment. Have you no friends to look after you?
See what trouble you may get into. Why, the mere possession of so much
gold by a boy like you may----"
"I can take care of myself, Mr. Isaacstein. I will be here at eleven.
Good-afternoon."