CHAPTER IV.
_Isaacstein._
The keen, strong, March wind soon blew the clouds from his brain. He didnot hurry toward Hatton Garden. He sauntered, rather, with his righthand clinched on the tiny parcel in his pocket, the parcel which hadsuddenly been endowed with such magic potentialities. It was theinstinct to guard a treasure of great value that led to this involuntaryaction. He was preoccupied, disturbed, vaguely striving to grasp avision that seemed to elude his exact comprehension.
What did it all mean? Was it really possible that he, Philip Anson,orphaned, beggared, practically a starving tramp, should have the richesof Golconda showered upon him in this mad fashion. If the small stone hehad shown to the jeweler were worth hundreds, then some of those in thepaper were worth thousands, while as for the stone in the back yard ofhis house--well, imagination boggled at the effort to appraise it. Thethought begot a sense of caution, of reserve, of well-reasoneddetermination not to reveal his secret to anybody. Perhaps it would bebest not to take Messrs. Isaacstein & Co. wholly into his confidence. Hewould simply show them the stone he had exhibited to Mr. Wilson and takethe best price they offered. Then, with the money in his possession, hecould effect a much needed change in his appearance, visit them again,and gradually increase his supply of diamonds until he had obtainedmore money than he could possibly spend during many years.
Above all else was it necessary that his meteor should be removed to asafer place than Johnson's Mews. Philip had no scruples aboutappropriating it. Lords of the Manor and Crown rights he had never heardof.
His mother, watching his every action from some Elysian height, had sentthe diamond-loaded messenger as a token of her love and care. It washis, and no man should rob him of it. It behooved him to be sparing ofexplanations and sturdy in defense of his property.
A good deal depended on the forthcoming interview, and he wished hecould convert a small fraction of the wealth in his pocket into a fewhonest pennies with the king's head on them. The excitement and exercisehad made him hungry again. His breakfast was not of ample proportions,and his meals of yesterday had been of the scantiest. It would be wellto face the diamond merchants with the easy confidence that springs froma satisfied appetite. Yet, how to manage it? He was sorry now he had notborrowed a sixpence from O'Brien. The old soldier would certainly havelent it to him. He even thought of returning to the Mile End Road tosecure the loan, but he happened to remember that the day was Saturday,and it was probable that the Hatton Garden offices would close early. Itwas then nearly eleven o'clock, and he could not risk the delay of thelong, double journey.
At that instant a savory smell was wafted to him. He was passing a smallrestaurant, where sausages and onions sizzled gratefully in large, tintrays, and pork chops lay in inviting prodigality amid rich, browngravy. The proprietor, a portly and greasy man, with bald head and sidewhiskers, was standing at the door exchanging views as to business withhis next-door neighbor, a greengrocer. Philip, bold in the knowledge ofhis wealth, resolved to try what he could achieve on credit.
He walked up to the pair.
"I have not got any money just now," he said to the restaurant keeper,"but if you will let me have something to eat I will gladly come backthis afternoon and pay you double."
Neither man spoke at first. Philip was always unconscious of the quaintdiscrepancy between his style of speech and his attire. He used toresent bitterly the astonishment exhibited by strangers, but to-day hewas far removed above these considerations, and he backed up his requestby a pleasant smile.
The fat man grew apoplectic and turned his eyes to the sky.
"Well, I'm----" he spluttered.
The greengrocer laughed, and Philip blushed.
"Do you refuse?" he said, with his downright manner and direct stare.
"Well, of all the cool cheek----" The stout person's feelings were toomuch for him. He could find no other words.
"It is a fair offer," persisted the boy. "You don't think I mean toswindle you, surely?"
"Well, there! I never did!"
But the greengrocer intervened.
"You're a sharp lad," he guffawed. "D'ye want a job?"
"No," was the short reply. "I want something to eat."
"Dash my buttons, an' you're a likely sort of kid to get it, too. In yougo. I'll pay the bill. Lord lumme, it'll do me good to see you."
"Mr. Judd, are you mad?" demanded his neighbor, whose breath hadreturned to him.
"Not a bit of it. The bloomin' kid can't get through a bob's worth if hebursts himself. 'Ere, I'll bet you two bob 'e pays up."
"Done! Walk in, sir. Wot'll you be pleased to 'ave, sir?"
Philip's indignation at the restaurant keeper's sarcasm yielded to hiswish to see him annihilated later in the day. Moreover, the sausagesreally smelt excellently, and he was now ravenous. He entered the shop,and gave his orders with a quiet dignity that astounded the proprietorand hugely delighted the greengrocer, who, in the intervals of business,kept peeping at him through the window. Philip ate steadily, and thebill amounted to ninepence, which his ally paid cheerfully.
The boy held out his hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Judd," he said, frankly. "I will return without fail. Iwill not insult you by offering more than the amount you have advancedfor me, but some day I may be able to render you good service inrepayment."
Then he walked off toward the viaduct steps, and Mr. Judd looked afterhim.
"Talks like a little gentleman, 'e does. If my little Jimmie 'ad lived'e would ha' bin just about his age. Lord lumme, I 'ope the lad turnsup again, an' not for the sake of the bloomin' ninepence, neither.Tomatoes, mum? Yes'm. Fresh in this mornin'."
After crossing Holborn Viaduct, Philip stood for a little while gazinginto the showroom of a motor agency. It was not that he was interestedin Panhard or De Dion cars--then but little known to the general publicin England--but rather that he wished to rehearse carefully the programto be followed with Mr. Isaacstein. With a sagacity unlooked for in oneof his years, he decided that the meteor should not be mentioned at all.Of course, the diamond merchant would instantly recognize the stone as ameteoric diamond, and would demand its earthly pedigree. Philip resolvedto adhere to the simple statement that it was his own property, and thatany reasonable inquiry might be made in all quarters where meteoricdiamonds were obtainable as to whether or not such a stone was missing.Meanwhile he would obtain from Mr. Isaacstein a receipt acknowledgingits custody and a small advance of money, far below its real worth,leaving the completion of the transaction until a later date. Thequestion of giving or withholding his address if it were asked for was adifficult one to settle offhand. Perhaps the course of events wouldpermit him to keep Johnson's Mews altogether out of the record, and amore reputable habitation would be provided once he had the requisitefunds.
Thinking he had successfully tackled all the problems that would demandsolution, Philip wasted no more time. He entered Hatton Garden, and hadnot gone past many of its dingy houses until he saw a large, brassplate, bearing the legend: "Isaacstein & Co., Diamond Merchants,Kimberley, Amsterdam and London."
He entered the office and was instantly confronted by a big-nosed youth,who surveyed him through a grille with an arched opening in it to admitletters and small parcels.
"Is Mr. Isaacstein in?" said Philip.
"Oah, yess," grinned the other.
"Will you kindly tell him I wish to see him?"
"Oah, yess." There was a joke lurking somewhere in the atmosphere, butthe young Hebrew had not caught its drift yet. The gaunt and unkemptvisitor was evidently burlesquing the accent of such gentle people ascame to the office on business.
Philip waited a few seconds. The boy behind the grille filled in theinterval by copying an address into the stamp book.
"Why do you not tell Mr. Isaacstein I am here?" he said at last.
"Oah, yess. You vil be funny, eh?" The other smirked over the hiddenhumor of the situation, and Philip understood that if he would see thegreat man of the firm
he must adopt a more emphatic tone.
"I had better warn you that Mr. Wilson, of Messrs. Grant & Sons, LudgateHill, sent me here to see Mr. Isaacstein. Am I to go back to Mr. Wilsonand say that the office boy refuses to admit me?"
There was a sting in the description, coming from such a speaker.
"Look 'ere," was the angry retort. "Go avay und blay, vil you? I'mpizzy."
Then Philip reached quickly through the little arch, grabbed a handfulof shirt, tie and waistcoat, and dragged the big nose and thick lipsviolently against the wires of the grille.
"Will you do what I ask, or shall I try and pull you through?" he said,quietly.
But the boy's ready yell brought two clerks running, and a door wasthrown open. Phil released his opponent and instantly explained hisaction. One of the clerks, an elderly man, looked a little deeper thanthe boy's ragged garments, and the mention of Mr. Wilson's name procuredhim a hearing. Moreover, he had previous experience of the youthfuljanitor's methods.
With a cuff on the ear, this injured personage was bidden to go upstairsand say that Mr. Wilson had sent a boy to see Mr. Isaacstein. The addedinsult came when he was compelled to usher Philip to a waiting room.
Soon a clerk entered. He was visibly astonished by the appearance of Mr.Wilson's messenger, and so was Mr. Isaacstein, when Philip was paradedbefore him in a spacious apartment, filled with glass cases and tables,at which several assistants were seated.
"What the deuce----" he began, but checked himself. "What does Mr.Wilson want?" he went on. Evidently his Ludgate Hill acquaintance wasuseful to Philip.
"He wants nothing, sir," said Philip. "He sent me to you on a matter ofbusiness. It is of a private nature. Can you give me a few minutesalone?"
Isaacstein was a big-headed, big-shouldered man, tapering to a smallpoint at his feet. He looked absurdly like a top, and surprise oremotion of any sort caused him to sway gently. He swayed now, and everyclerk looked up, expecting him to fall bodily onto the urchin with therefined utterance who had dared to penetrate into the potentate's officewith such a request.
Kimberley, Amsterdam and London combined to lend effect to Isaacstein'swit when he said:
"Is this a joke?"
All the clerks guffawed in chorus. Fortunately, Isaacstein was in a goodhumor. He had just purchased a pearl for two hundred and fifty pounds,which he would sell to Lady Somebody for eight hundred pounds, to matchanother in an earring.
"It appears to be," said Philip, when the merriment had subsided.
For some reason the boy's grave, earnest eyes conquered the big littleman's amused scrutiny.
"Now, boy, be quick. What is it?" he said, testily, and every clerk bentto his task.
"I have told you, sir. I wish to have a few minutes' conversation withyou with regard to business of an important nature."
"You say Mr. Wilson sent you--Mr. Wilson, of Grant & Sons?"
"Yes, sir."
Isaacstein yielded to amazed curiosity.
"Step in here," he said, and led the way to his private office,surprising himself as well as his assistants by this concession.
Philip closed the door, and Isaacstein turned sharply at the sound, butthe boy gave him no time to frame a question.
"I want you to buy this," he said, handing over the diamond.
Isaacstein took it, and gave it one critical glance. He began to wobbleagain.
"Do you mean to say Mr. Wilson sent you to dispose of this stone to me?"he demanded.
"Not exactly, sir. I showed it to him, and he recommended me to come toyou."
"Ah, I see. Sit down, there----" indicating a chair near the door. Thediamond merchant himself sat at his desk, but they were both in fullview of each other.
"Where did you get it?" he asked.
"I found it."
"Quite so. But where?"
"At this moment I do not wish to go into details, but it is mine, mineonly, and I am quite willing that you should make every inquiry tosatisfy yourself that it was not stolen. I suppose that is what youfear?"
Sheer wonder kept the Jew silent for a space.
"Do you know its value?" he said, with a sudden snap.
"Mr. Wilson told me it was worth several hundreds of pounds."
"Did he, really?"
"Yes. He said you would treat me quite fairly, so I wish you to advanceme a few pounds until you have decided upon its real price. You see,sir, I am very poor, and my present appearance creates an unfavorableimpression. Still, I am telling you the absolute truth, and I show myconfidence in you and in my own case by offering to leave the diamondwith you on your receipt, together with a small sum of money."
Philip thought he was getting on very well. Isaacstein's large eyesbulged at him, and speech came but slowly. He leaned forward andrummaged among some papers. Then he opened a drawer and produced amagnifying glass, with which he focused the diamond.
"Yes, it is worth six or seven hundred pounds," he announced, "but itwill be some time before I can speak accurately as to its value. I thinkit may be flawless, but that can only be determined when it is cut."
Philip's heart throbbed when he heard the estimate.
"Then I can have a few pounds----" he commenced.
"Steady. You are not in such a hurry; eh? You won't tell me where yougot it?"
"I may, later, if you continue to deal with me as honestly as you havedone already."
Isaacstein moved on his seat. Even in a chair he wanted to wobble. Therewas a slight pause.
"Have you any more like this stone? I suppose not, eh?"
"Yes, I have many more."
"Eh? What? Boy, do you know what you are saying?"
"No doubt you are surprised, sir, but not more than I am myself. Yet, itis true. I have some--as big again."
Philip, in his eagerness, nearly forgot his resolution to advanceslowly. How the diamond merchant would shake if only he could see someof the white pebbles in the meteor.
"As big again! Where are they?"
The chair was creaking now with the rhythmic swaying of its occupant.
"Where this one came from, Mr. Isaacstein."
Philip smiled. He could not tell how it happened, but he felt that hewas the intellectual superior of the man who sat there glowering at himso intently. Already the boy began to grasp dimly the reality of thepower which enormous wealth would give him. Such people as the Jew andhis satellites would be mere automata in the affairs of his life,important enough in a sense, with the importance of a stamp for a letteror a railway ticket for a journey, but governed and controlled utterlyby the greater personage who could unlock the door of the treasurehouse. For the first time, Philip wished he was older, bigger, moreexperienced. He even found himself beginning to wonder what he should dountil he reached man's estate. He sighed.
Isaacstein was watching him closely, trying to solve the puzzle by theaid of each trick and dodge known in a trade which lends itself to acuteroguery of every description. The look of unconscious anxiety, of mentalweariness, on Philip's face, seemed to clear away his doubts. Hechuckled thickly.
"How many, now," he murmured. "Ten, twenty--of assorted sizes, eh?"
"Far more! Far more! Be content with what I tell you to-day, Mr.Isaacstein. I said my business was important. When you are betteracquainted with me, I think you will find it sufficiently valuable tooccupy the whole of your time."
Philip was ever on the verge of bursting out into confidences. Hissecret was too vast, too overpowering for a boy of fifteen. He wantedthe knowledge and the trust of an older man. He did not realize that theJew, beginning by regarding him as a thief, was now veering round to theopinion that he was a lunatic. For it is known to most men that thevalues of diamonds increase out of all proportion to their weight.While a one-carat stone is worth, roughly speaking, ten pounds, atwenty-carat gem of the same purity is worth any sum beyond two thousandpounds, and the diamond Philip had submitted for inspection wouldprobably cut into ten or twelve carats of fine luster. To speak,therefore, of an abu
ndance of larger and finer stones, was a simpleabsurdity. The De Beers Company alone could use such a figure of speech,and even then only at isolated dates in its history.
The boy, with his eyes steadfastly fixed on the Jew's face and yet witha distant expression in them that paid slight heed to the waves ofemotion exhibited by the heavy cheeks and pursed-up mouth, awaited somefinal utterance on the part of his questioner. Surely he had saidsufficient to make this man keenly alive to the commercial value of the"business" he offered. Under the conditions, Isaacstein could not refuseto give him sufficient money to meet his immediate wants.
The Jew, seemingly at a loss for words, bent again over the stone. Hewas scrutinizing it closely when a heavy tread crossed the outershowroom and the door was flung open.
A policeman entered, and Isaacstein bounced out of his chair.
"I have sent for you, constable, to take this boy into custody," hecried, excitedly. "He came here ten minutes ago and offered for sale avery valuable diamond, so rare, and worth so much, that he must havestolen it."
Philip, too, sprang up.
"It is a lie!" he shouted. "How dare you say such a thing when I havetold you that it is mine!"
The policeman collared him by the shoulder.
"Steady, my young spark," he said. "Mr. Isaacstein knows what he isabout, and I don't suppose he is very far wrong this time. Do you knowthe boy, sir?" he went on.
Isaacstein gave a voluble and accurate summary of Philip's statements.Each moment the policeman's grip became firmer. Evidently the boy wasthe mere agent of a gang of thieves, though it was beyond comprehensionthat anyone short of an idiot should choose an emissary with brokenboots and ragged clothing in order to effect a deal with the leadinghouse in Hatton Garden.
Philip listened to the recital in dumb agony. His face was deathly pale,and his eyes glowed with the rage and shame that filled his soul. So theJew had been playing with him, merely fooling him until some secretsignal by an electric bell had sent a messenger flying for the police.His dream of wealth would end in the jail, his fairy oasis would be afelon's cell. Very well, be it so. If he could help it, not all thepolicemen in London should rend his secret from him. With a sudden glowof fiery satisfaction, he remembered that his clothing contained no clewto his address, and he had not given his name either at Ludgate Hill orHatton Garden. How long could they keep him a prisoner? Would othersfind his meteor and rob him of his mother's gift? In less than afortnight men would come to tear down the buildings in Johnson's Mews.Well, it mattered not. The courage of despair which nerved him theprevious night came to his aid again. He would defy them all, carelessof consequence.
The policeman was saying:
"It's a queer affair, sir. Did he really say he had lots more of 'em?"
"Yes, yes! Do you think I am romancing? Perhaps they are in hispossession now."
"Have you any more of these stones, boy?"
Philip, with lips tensely set, was desperately cool again. He moved hisarm, and the constable's grasp tightened.
"You are hurting me," said the boy. "I merely wish to put my hand in mypocket. Are you afraid of me, that you hold me so fast?"
The policeman, like the rest, did not fail to notice Philip's diction.The scornful superiority of his words, the challenge of the finalquestion, took him aback. He relaxed his grip and grinned confusedly.
Philip instantly produced his paper of diamonds and opened it widely, sothat all the stones could be seen. He handed the parcel to thepoliceman.
"Take good care of them, constable," he said. "Judging from results,they would not be safe in that man's hands."
But Isaacstein did not hear the insult. When he saw the collection henearly lost his senses. What had he done? Was he or the boy mad? Veinsstood out on his forehead, and he wobbled so fearfully that he clutchedthe desk for support. A scarecrow of a boy wandering about London withthousands of pounds' worth of diamonds in his pocket, wrapped up in apiece of newspaper like so many sweets! There were not any meteoricdiamonds of such value in all the museums and private collections in theworld. He began to perspire. Even the policeman was astounded, quite asmuch at being called "constable" by Philip as by the mean appearance ofarticles presumably of great value.
"This is a rum go. What do you make of it, Mr. Isaacstein?" he said.
The query restored the Jew's wits. After all, here was the law speaking.It would have been the wildest folly for a man of his position to dabblein this mysterious transaction.
With a great effort he forced himself to speak.
"Lock him up instantly. This matter must be fully inquired into. And dobe careful of that parcel, constable. Where do you take him? To theBridewell station? I will follow you in a cab in five minutes."
So Philip, handcuffed, was marched down the stairs past the gratifiedoffice boy and out into the street.
As for Isaacstein, he required brandy, and not a little, before he feltable to follow.