FLAMING DIAMOND
by LEROY YERXA
There it was, in a night club, the biggest diamond in the world. Why was it here when a whole race depended on it for existence?
he Owl Limb Night Club was crowded with smoothly gowned women and paunchy men as Owner George Lardner approached the hanging "mike" to announce the midnight attraction. At Lardner's appearance "Puffy" Adams nudged his well-dressed boss in the ribs and whispered thickly.
"Come on, Jim. Let's get out of here."
Jim Drake lifted a tousled head from the smooth linen. He gazed at his right hand man with a washed-out expression.
"Huh?"
"Puffy" Adams stood up slowly. His coat was wrinkled and creased across his powerful back. He pulled it down impatiently and rubbed a warm hand across his face. Looking down at the unsteady figure of Jim Drake he grunted. Three crooked teeth that seemed at odds with the world, appeared coyly against "Puffy's" lower lip.
He was accustomed to this old routine. Placing both hands under Drake's armpits he lifted. Jim came to his feet with a surprised gurgle.
"Wait a minute," he protested. "Wanta' see dance."
Puffy Adams pushed a thick arm around Drake and steered him across the floor between the tables.
"Special feature tonight—diamond of mystery...." The night club owner was still talking, his voice drowning the murmur of voices and tinkle of glasses across the big room. "Sylvia Fanton—girl from nowhere—!"
Puffy struggled onward under the almost dead weight of his boss. Drake was trying to hold back.
"You gave me orders to take you home at midnight," Puffy protested, "and, 'Cinderella' Drake, home you go."
He succeeded in dragging his charge up the three low steps that led toward the coat room. A silvery crash of music drowned out Puffy's voice with the suddenness of striking lightning. He dropped his arm from Drake's waist and pivoted, surprise on his broad face. Something weird and lovely about the sound turned them both toward the stage. His chin dropped in delight. This wasn't Lardner's usual nightly feature.
She went into a weirdly sensuous dance....
They watched with hypnotized eyes as the girl's slim body twisted and swayed from between the bright shower of curtains. It wasn't the girl that caught Puffy's gaze. Cupped in her slim hands was the biggest diamond he had ever seen. The gem was skillfully cut with the perfection of a Tiffany. From its multi-faceted sides a million sparks of rainbow fire quivered and danced through the room. The shadows seemed to come alive and burn under its presence.
Puffy gasped loudly.
"Shhhhh!"
"It ain't true," Puffy said. "A paste if I ever stole one."
Blake leaned on the low rail that bordered the dining room. His legs were spread wide, body balanced unsteadily with firm-gripped hands. George Lardner had picked a winner this time. Clothed in ankle-length silver cloth, she wafted across the floor lightly as a breeze. Sylvia Fanton was a light, floating angel of beauty. Her hair was raven-black drifting to her waist and the eyes, dark as her hair, seemed caught in worship for the precious stone in her hands. She hardly danced yet the smooth torso, the swaying hips held her admirers fixed.
A sigh of longing escaped Drake's lips.
"Wunnerful," he breathed.
"Yea!" Puffy was still watching the great gem. "Not real though."
"Perfect as a dream," Jim Drake went on, not hearing.
"Perfect phony," Puffy insisted.
Drake swung around unsteadily.
"Who you calling phony," he lisped angrily. "That's girl's wunnerful."
He staggered and collapsed against Puffy's barrel chest.
"Home for you," Puffy decided.
e retrieved Drake like a sack of spuds and placed him carefully on his feet.
"We're going out." He took a last look toward the dance floor and pushed his boss through the curtains toward the outer lobby.
The music behind them stopped. The lights in the dining room blinked out and a woman screamed somewhere in the darkness. Adams didn't wait to find out what had happened. He pushed Drake along the hall toward the coat room. Beside the tall youngster, Adams assumed all the importance of a harbor tug heaving away at an ocean-going liner.
Mary, the checkroom girl, was waiting. When midnight brought Drake from his whiskey, the girl had learned to expect a lavish tip. She looked at Puffy with a puzzled smile.
"What's wrong in there?"
"Revolution," he answered shortly. "Light went out. Lardner probably forgot to pay the light bill."
Jim Drake fumbled uncertainly in his pocket and brought out a numbered ticket.
"Coat please," he said stiffly. "Coat please!"
He waved the ticket under Mary's nose.
She took the stub quickly and returned in a minute with a woman's silver fox cape. It was a lavish, deeply rich fur.
"How long since you started wearing these things?" she asked and pushed it across the counter.
"Hey!" Puffy grunted. "That ain't ours."
Drake clutched the fur protectively.
"Here—here," he cried. "My coat. Just grew whiskers. My coat just the same."
Before Adams could stop him, Drake was lurching toward the door and into the waiting arms of the doorman. Puffy tossed a bill on the counter and Mary's eyes popped a fraction.
"We'll bring it back when he sobers up," he said quickly. "Must have got the wrong number."
"Thanks!"
"Forget it." He went toward Drake and the grinning doorman. Rescuing his drunken charge. Adams helped him across the walk toward the car.
"Come on, Cinderella. You got a date with the sandman."
Somewhere down State Street came the mournful howl of a siren.
"Whee!" Drake waved the fur in the air above his head. "Fire—want to go to fire."
crowd of patrons were pouring from the club behind them. With a quick push Puffy deposited Drake in the streamlined coupe and rounded the rear tires on the run. He jumped behind the wheel and turned the key. Sirens were whining in close now.
The door slammed and a girl landed squarely on Drake's lap.
It was the dancing girl, Sylvia Fanton. Her face was flushed brightly with fright.
"Whee!" Drake shouted gleefully. "The Angel herself. Where's the Tiffany?"
He threw his arms about her slim, silver-clad waist and planted a popping kiss on her cheek. The flat of the girl's hand caught his face, hard. Drake sobered a degree.
"My jacket!" her voice was strained and tense. "Please! I must have it at once."
Drake was interested. His pale eyes started to show fight.
"Sure!" he said. "But it's my jacket."
The sirens were dying now. A powerful police car shot to the curb behind them. Puffy's eyes narrowed and he drove the coupe away from the club smoothly.
"Too hot around here," he said to no one in particular. "Can't stand the smell of copper's feet."
Sylvia Fanton's dress was badly ripped on one side. The silken stocking and smooth flesh of her thigh was visible through the tear.
"Please!" There were tears in her cold eyes. "I must have the jacket. It is mine, you know."
Drake was coy.
"Aw," he insisted. "I had a ticket for it."
She slipped between them, her arm around Drake's shoulder. Realizing that he was drunk, she tried a different approach.
"Now what would you do with it?" she asked sweetly. "You would look funny wearing a silver fox jacket. You'd be just an old fox."
Jim hesitated. Then he slipped the jacket from his arm and around her soft shoulder.
"I'll make a deal with you," he suggested. "Let us take you home and you can have the old animal."
or the first time his eyes were clearing enough to get a really good look at the girl at his side. He started to wonder vaguely how she had gotten here. She was small and her tiny face seemed almost cupid-like to his uncertain vision. Her eyes were frightened like the eyes of a timid animal.
"Okay!" Puffy said sharply. "You've made a bargain. I ain't driving all night. Where to?"
Her voice snapped out sharp and cold.
"Nowhere. Stop right here."
Jim Drake chuckled.
"Wait a minute," he stammered. "Be a sport. You promised."
He looked away for an instant, trying to shake some of the fog from his head. When he looked back the girl was gone. There between them on the seat was a small silver fox.
He shook his head dazedly and groaned.
"They got me," he moaned. "Stop car. I got to...."
Puffy took his eyes from the road. A sharp oath escaped his lips. The brakes squealed as he felt sharp teeth settle deeply into his wrist. Howling with pain he twisted the coupe to the curb.
The fox released its grip and leaped gracefully over the door into the street. It was gone, weaving swiftly like a small dog through the straggling crowd. It went out of sight quickly into a nearby alley.
"Holy Ned!" Puffy held a bleeding wrist in his good hand. "I'm getting this way from being with you."
Jim Drake's lips quivered strangely and he turned pale.
"I wanna' go home. Don't wanna' see anyone. No one, understand?"
Puffy nodded, but Drake persisted brokenly.
"Fox woman, that's what she is. Darned old fox woman wouldn't play fair...!" His lips murmured off into something Puffy couldn't understand.
ong shafts of sunlight split the obscure shadows that had hidden Jim Drake's room for the past twelve hours. Drake turned over carefully in bed, groaned and reached for the full glass on the table.
"Puffy!" His voice arose in shattering crescendo across the stillness of the rich apartment and crashed against the door. "Puffy—it's me. Take these damned rocks off my head."
Adams opened the door and came forward with a sly grin on his face.
"Okay—Okay." He was impatient. "I'm coming, Cinderella."
Drake swallowed the contents of the glass in a single gulp and stretched out with a sickly grin.
"That was a wonderful dream I had last night," he said weakly. "Remind me to call Walt Disney."
Adams went across the room and drew open the curtains. A two o'clock sun slipped into the room and Drake hid himself hurriedly in the pillow.
"Turn out that damned light," he shouted. "Now—about that fox woman. Walt Disney oughta' pay...."
Puffy had braced his feet and placed his stocky arms behind his back.
"It wasn't any dream," he said calmly.
"Yea, I know. I was drunk."
"It wasn't a dream," Puffy said stubbornly. "That girl you saw really was a fox. At least she turned into one. Oh! Damn!"
He tossed the morning paper on the bed.
"Read what the Star had to say about your dream," he said. "They got the story straighter than I did. We took a lady for a ride, Cinderella, and she turned into a silver fox."
Drake sat up stiffly. The foolish look of surprise was gone. He reached for the Morning Star. In huge headlines he read:
DARING HOLDUP AT NEW
NIGHT CLUB
World's Largest Diamond Stolen From
Under Eyes of Police
Sober as a lord now, Drake sent his eyes wavering along the column of newsprint:
Chicago, May 6.—A group of daring jewel thieves last night stole the Lardner diamond, largest gem of its kind in the world, from beneath the eyes of an armed guard.
The stone was a perfect cut, pronounced priceless only last week when it was first seen by Tiffany experts.
George Lardner, the owner of the Owl Limb, one of the city's newest night spots, had taken it from a private vault to display in a special dance.
Miss Sylvia Fanton, who danced with the gem has also disappeared, but Lardner insists that she was well known to him and could have had no hand in the robbery.
This story is feasible, as the gown Miss Fanton was wearing at the time has been discovered badly torn in a State Street alley. Murder of the dancer is suspected.
rake tossed the paper across the room.
"Rubbish!" His eyes were clear and snapping now. The night of adventure was thrown from his mind. "It couldn't happen, Puffy. We were seeing things."
Adams picked up the Star carefully, thumbed toward the last page and held the news sheet where Drake could see another, much smaller caption.
"Look at this," he begged. "You'll sing another song."
Jim took the sheet again, as though afraid he would believe the impossible. This story was short, and wedged in at the bottom of a last page.