Flowing Gold | Page 8

'modern Gil Blas,' as the
paper calls you. No Wall Street money barons are eating out of my
hand, and I have no international interests 'reaching from the Yukon to
the Plate,' but--I stand all right in little old Dallas. I'm the V. P. of our
biggest jewelry house, and business is great." After their order had been
given, he recited in greater detail the nature of his success.
Gray was interested. "Texas is booming," he said, at the conclusion of
the story. "I'm told the new oil towns are something like our old mining
camps."

"Except that they are more so. The same excitement, the same quick
fortunes, only quicker and larger. Believe me, it's fine for the jewelry
business. Look here." Coverly drew from his pocket a letter written in a
painfully cramped hand upon cheap note paper, and this he spread out
for his companion to read. "There's an example in point."
The letter, which bore the Ranger postmark, ran as follows:
DERE SIR--Your store has bin rekomend to me for dimons and I want
some for my wife and dauter. Send me prises on rings of large sises.
Yours truley GUS BRISKOW.
"Um-m! Who is Mr. Briskow?"
Coverly shrugged. "Probably some nester who never saw a hundred
dollars all in one place until recently. When they strike oil, they buy
diamonds, nice large yellow ones, as a rule; then as the money
continues to flow in, they pay off the mortgage and buy a bank--or an
interest in one."
"In Heaven's name, introduce me to the opulent Gus Briskow."
"I wish I might. But I don't expect to make his acquaintance. The head
of our firm is away and I haven't a man I'd dare trust to send out into
the field. Usually I handle these inquiries myself when the victim can't
tear himself away from contemplating the miraculous flow of liquid
gold long enough to come here. I take an assortment of gems with me
and beard the nouveau riche right on his derrick floor. Why, I've
carried as much as a hundred thousand dollars' worth of merchandise
on some of my trips." Coverly sighed regretfully. "Tough luck! Too
bad you're not a good jewelry salesman?"
"I am," Gray declared. "I can sell anything. As for diamonds--I've
bought enough in my time to know their value."
Coverly laughed in ready agreement with this statement. "Gad! I'm sore
at missing this sale."

"You needn't miss it. I'll go."
"Don't kid an unfortunate--"
"I'm not joking. If it's worth while, pack up your saffron solitaires--all
that you dare trust me with--and I'll be your gentlemanly
representative."
"Worth while? Good Lord! I'd probably get a ten-thousand-dollar
order!"
"Very well. It's settled." Gray's decision had been quickly made.
Opportunity had knocked--he was not one to deny her admission, no
matter how queer her garb. A hundred thousand dollars' worth of gems!
The very figures intrigued him and--diamonds are readily negotiable.
There would be a natural risk attached to the handling of so large an
amount. A thousand things might happen to a treasure chest of that size.
Gray began to believe that his luck had changed.
"Where does Mr. Briskow live?" he inquired.
"Out beyond Ranger, somewhere. But--"
"I'm going to visit that field, anyhow. This will give me an excuse."
"Nonsense!" The jeweler did not like to have fun poked at him. For
some time he refused to take the offer seriously, and even when his
host insisted that he would enjoy the lark, he expostulated: "Why, the
idea is ridiculous! You--Calvin Gray, the financier, peddling jewelry?
Ha! Outside of the fact that you wouldn't, couldn't do it, it's not the
safest thing in the world to carry a small fortune in stones through the
oil fields."
"Of course you insure it against theft?"
"That's the point. We can't. Have you ever heard of 'high- jackers'?
That's the Texas term for hold-up men, robbers. Well, the country is
full of them."

"Excellent! There no longer is any question about my going," Gray
announced, firmly. "I am bored; I am stale; a thrill, of whatever sort,
would stir my blood. Animated by purely selfish motives, I now insist
upon a serious consideration of my offer. First, you say I 'wouldn't,
couldn't'; I assure you that I would, could--and shall, provided I can
qualify as a salesman."
Coverly admitted without much argument that anybody could probably
effect a sale in this instance, if the diamonds were plainly marked with
their prices; it would be a mere question of displaying the goods. That
was not the point. Gray was a rich, a busy man--the idea was fantastic.
"Why, you're offering to do this as an accommodation to an old friend,
and your time is probably worth more than our whole profit on the sale