Max Pemberton - Murder Mysteries Boxed-Set - 40+ Books in One Edition

It was to our private apartments that we turned when we left the shop in the Graben, and began to see how we stood. So far, fortune was with us. We had found the diamond, we had caught our man. If all went well we might settle with King on the following evening, and be off to Paris again by the midnight train. And if it turned out like that, I knew that we should carry away five thousand apiece as the profit of the venture.

You may imagine that the next twenty-four hours were anxious ones. I went up to the Métropole in the morning and engaged a room in the name of Sir Nicolas Steele, saying that he would dine at the hotel with his friend, the Comte de Laon. That carried out our idea of having two names in Vienna. If any one said to Sir Nicolas, "You are not the Comte de Laon," he had only to point to me; if any one said to me, "You are not Sir Nicolas Steele," I had only to point to my master. For the matter of that, a big hotel is far too busy looking after its guests to be bothering about the identity of people; and no one asked me a single question when I booked the room and ordered the dinner, to which we had already invited Benjamin King, the bacon merchant.

Punctually at seven o'clock that night the three of us sat down to table—Sir Nicolas, King, and myself. My master was clever enough to monopolize most of the conversation, giving it out that I spoke French only; and lucky for me, King's daughter, a pretty little thing I'd seen in Paris, had gone off to the theatre with some friends. I could hold my tongue in her absence, and leave Sir Nicolas to do the blarney, which he did in his own pretty way. King was a big, coarse-made man with a rasping Chicago accent on him; and I think that he was not a little pleased at sitting down with a real Irish baronet and a supposed French count—for, in all our dealings with him, I took the name Comte de Laon, while at the jeweller's I was always Sir Nicolas Steele. Any way, he was civil enough, and when the cigars were lit, he began to talk about the diamond.

"Wal," cried he, "and where's your bull's eye, Sir Nicolas. Out with it! Eh, count,"—and here he turned to me,—"you've heard of the marble he carries in his pocket? Belonged to one of the French queens, he says—Dianner or somebody."

"Indeed, and there's no doubt of it," says my master. "Diana of Poictiers wore it upon her own pretty neck, and so did our own Henrietta. There's no more question that it's a Mazarin than that I am Nicolas Steele of Castle Rath. Ye'll have read the papers, Mr. King?"

"That's so; me and my daughter read 'em yesterday. We haven't got the dust off our hands yet."

"Then you know all I can tell you?"

"I guess we do, and I'm waiting to see your bit of glass. What was the figure you named?"

"One hundred thousand dollars," said my master, without turning a hair. "I'd sooner throw it into the Danube than sell it for less."

"It's a long price," said King, looking serious. "A man must cut a hole in pigs to buy his diamonds at that figure."

"He can buy them for half the sum, if he cares nothing for their history," cried Sir Nicolas quickly. "This stone has no second, but the great Sancy diamond, in all Europe. It has helped to make history; in one way it is priceless."

"Then show it and have done with it," says King, in a mighty proud way.

"There is nothing easier," says my master, "though it is too valuable to carry like a watch in the pocket. My friend Comte de Laon, here, has it at his bankers'. His man is coming up to the hotel at eight o'clock. It should be that and more, now."

With this he turned and said something in rapid French. While I did not understand him, I bowed and smiled as I had been doing all dinner-time; and at that very moment a waiter announced that a gentleman wished to see the Comte de Laon.

We rose together, Sir Nicolas and I; and one quick glance passed between us. Then he turned to King—

"If ye'll sit here for the half of a minute," says he, "you shall hold the stone in your fingers."

"There's no hurry," says King, leaning back in his chair, "though I'd be glad of a green cigar, I guess."

"The waiter shall bring you one," says Sir Nicolas at the door; and with that he pulled me into the passage.

"Remember," cried he in a whisper, directly the door had shut upon us, "we change names again."

"Should I be likely to forget?" says I—and that was all, for the next minute we were down stairs, and the diamond was in Sir Nicolas's hand.

They had shown Lobmeyr into a little room at the side of the dining-hall. I can see him now, wrapped from head to foot in a heavy sable coat, his little eyes dancing like stars as they tried to read us up. He had brought the Golden Fleece in a beautiful shagreen case, and there never was a prettier thing to see than that diamond, I'll stake my life. But events were moving too fast for me to pay any attention to it then, and I was all ears for the talk between the two. One false step, one silly word—and the trick would be blown to the winds. It remained to control our tongues as if curbs of iron held them. Nor, to give Sir Nicolas his due, did he waste any words.

"Before we come to the important question of price, Herr Lobmeyr," said he, after the usual compliments had passed between them, "I'd be glad if I may take the opinion of the friend for whom I am acting in this case. He's at table upstairs, and his judgment and that of other friends with me will help to decide. You will permit me, I am sure, to show the jewel?"

He said this and I felt my heart begin to thump like any thing. If Lobmeyr refused to let the stone go out of his possession, we were done. And he did not give in any too readily. I saw his eyes searching the pair of us through and through. Only after a long pause did he bow an unwilling assent, and Sir Nicolas went off upon the errand which meant all to us.

What passed in the minutes during which he was gone I can't quite tell you. I, for my part, was so excited that I could hardly sit on my chair. As for Lobmeyr, I guessed by his looks that he didn't half like the job. And this was running in my head all the time, that he might refuse to leave the stone behind him until he had the cash in his hand. Possibly Benjamin King might buy the diamond and promise to pay for it next day. If we had to make a fuss, if once King met Lobmeyr and the two understood each other, the bubble would be pricked for good and all; and the sooner we cleared out of Vienna the better. And this thought made me hot and cold in turns. "We must find some way," said I, "to shut his mouth—must give him some security." Yet, what security had we? Nothing but a check-book and our cheek.

All this was in my mind, and I was turning it over and over, pretending at the same time to listen to Lobmeyr's talk, when Sir Nicolas came back again. He had left the diamond behind him, but his looks told me in a minute what had happened. "We have lost the throw," said I to myself; and at this my heart seemed to sink into my boots. As for Lobmeyr, when he saw that his diamond was not in my master's hand, he rose up quick from his chair just as if we had tried to rob him.

"Well," said he, and there was a power of meaning in his tone—"well, M. le Comte, and what do your friends say?"

"That we must have a week to answer you definitely, but that, if we accept the stone, the price you ask will be paid."

The man heard him out, his features gradually relaxing in a smile.

"Nothing could be fairer," said he; "you have only to return me the diamond."

"Ah!" exclaimed. Sir Nicolas carelessly, "I should have explained to you that we are not alone in so large a venture as this. We have others to consult, and we propose that you leave the stone with us until we have their answer."

At this request, the whole look on Lobmeyr's face changed instantly. His eyes seemed to dart fire.