I gave it to him, and asked what was the matter. He drank quickly, and looked round the room before replying.
“It is too much, this,” he whispered.
“It’s not too much—I only gave you a couple of fingers,” I said.
“Not that—the bat man, I mean. Flint, God of my Gods, he is walking up and down the main street on this minute, with the stone slung round his neck, like a locket!”
“And nothing on it!” I exclaimed—if you can exclaim under your breath.
“There is but a small native case of weaved grass, and see you, he has left the end that it almost shows out—one can see the entire shape of it!”
“Why didn’t you buy it right there!” I demanded, jumping out of bed, and beginning to fling on my clothes with all possible haste.
A New Guinea native walking down the main street of Samarai, in broad day, with the second largest diamond of modern times slung round his neck! It was indeed a nice situation.
“My Flint, it was impossible. The Greek, he was looking out of his window all the time.”
“Oh, hang the Greek! It’s better the news of the stone should get out—once we’ve got it—than that it should be knocking loose round Samarai like that,” I declared. “It’s true that if we let the folks here get wind of it, we shall have to sleep on it in turns, and keep sort of watch and watch all the time till the boat comes, and after that the real fun will only be beginning. But anything’s better than losing it. Why, that confounded Greek may suspect already what we are after. Come on.” I counted out a handful of sovereigns, put them in my pocket, and started off.