The Diamond Master | Page 2

an adjoining room, then
changed his mind long enough carefully to replace the diamond in the
box and thrust the box into a pigeonhole of his desk. Then he called Mr.
Flitcroft in.
"Have you gone through your morning mail?" Mr. Latham inquired of
the secretary.
"Yes," he replied. "I have just finished."
"Did you happen to come across a letter bearing on--that is, was there a
letter to-day, or has there been a letter of instructions as to a single
large diamond which was to come, or had come, by mail?"
"No, nothing," replied Mr. Flitcroft promptly. "The only letter received
to-day which referred to diamonds was a notification of a shipment
from South Africa."
Mr. Latham thoughtfully drummed on his desk.
"Well, I'm expecting some such letter," he explained. "When it comes

please call it to my attention. Send my stenographer in."
Mr. Flitcroft nodded and withdrew; and for an hour or more Mr.
Latham was engrossed in the routine of correspondence. There was
only an occasional glance at the box in the pigeonhole, and momentary
fits of abstraction, to indicate an unabated interest and growing
curiosity in the diamond. The last letter was finished, and the
stenographer arose to leave.
"Please ask Mr. Czenki to come here," Mr. Latham directed.
And after a while Mr. Czenki appeared. He was a spare little man, with
beady black eyes, bushy brows, and a sinister scar extending from the
point of his chin across the right jaw. Mr. Czenki drew a salary of
twenty-five thousand dollars a year from the H. Latham Company, and
was worth twice that much. He was the diamond expert of the firm; and
for five or six years his had been the final word as to quality and value.
He had been a laborer in the South African diamond fields--the scar
was an assegai thrust--about the time Cecil Rhodes' grip was first felt
there; later he was employed as an expert by Barney Barnato at
Kimberly, and finally he went to London with Adolph Zeidt. Mr.
Latham nodded as he entered, and took the box from the pigeonhole.
"Here's something I'd like you to look at," he remarked.
Mr. Czenki removed the cover and turned the glittering stone out into
his hand. For a minute or more he stood still, examining it, as he turned
and twisted it in his fingers, then walked over to a window, adjusted a
magnifying glass in his left eye and continued the scrutiny. Mr. Latham
swung around in his chair and stared at him intently.
"It's the most perfect blue-white I've ever seen," the expert announced
at last. "I dare say it's the most perfect in the world."
Mr. Latham arose suddenly and strode over to Mr. Czenki, who was
twisting the jewel in his fingers, singling out, dissecting, studying the
colorful flashes, measuring the facets with practised eyes, weighing it
on his finger-tips, seeking a possible flaw.

"The cutting is very fine," the expert went on. "Of course I would have
to use instruments to tell me if it is mathematically correct; and the
weight, I imagine, is--is about six carats, perhaps a fraction more."
"What's it worth?" asked Mr. Latham. "Approximately, I mean?"
"We know the color is perfect," explained Mr. Czenki precisely. "If, in
addition, the cutting is perfect, and the depth is right, and the weight is
six carats or a fraction more, it's worth--in other words, if that is the
most perfect specimen in existence, as it seems to be, it's worth
whatever you might choose to demand for it--twenty, twenty-five,
thirty thousand dollars. With this color, and assuming it to be six carats,
even if badly cut, it would be worth ten or twelve thousand."
Mr. Latham mopped his brow. And this had come by mail,
unregistered!
"It would not be possible to say where--where such a stone came
from--what country?" Mr. Latham inquired curiously. "What's your
opinion?"
The expert shook his head. "If I had to guess I should say Brazil, of
course," he replied; "but that would be merely because the most perfect
blue-white diamonds come from Brazil. They are found all over the
world--in Africa, Russia, India, China, even in the United States. The
simple fact that this color is perfect makes conjecture useless."
Mr. Latham lapsed into silence, and for a time paced back and forth
across his office; Mr. Czenki stood waiting.
"Please get the exact weight," Mr. Latham requested abruptly. "Also
test the cutting. It came into my possession in rather an--an unusual
manner, and I'm curious."
The expert went out. An hour later he returned and placed the white,
glazed box on the desk before Mr. Latham.
"The weight is six and three-sixteenths carats," he stated. "The depth is

absolutely perfect according to the diameter of the girdle. The