I handed over the little bag of dust.
“Here it is; I reckon you and I must have got each other’s clothes when we were bathing,” I said. Hubbard took the gold and opened it.
“Weigh out two ounces; there’s near three there,” he said. The storekeeper took the bag and poured part of its contents into the scales.
“That’s a fine crystal,” he said, looking curiously at the great diamond as it lay on the rough, hacked counter of the bar. “Where did you get it?”
I did not altogether like the way in which the bloated, evil faces of the new-chum crowd turned towards me as I answered.
“Got it out of a sorcerer’s charm-bag in Kata-Kata,” was what I said, reaching out for the gem. “It’s rather pretty, and they made a great puri-puri (charm) of it down there. Some of the museums down South will give quite a lot for good charms.”
A dirty, hairy man in torn moleskins let out a sudden cackling laugh.
“Let’s have a look,” he said.
I handed it over at once, though my fingers felt as though they were glued to the stone. The day was so black and the bar so ill-lighted that I did not think the diamond, uncut as it was, would give out any of those sudden rays that had first attracted the attention of the Marquis and myself. And if you did not catch it when it was shooting green and violet and red, there was really nothing to distinguish it from a common bit of quartz—unless by chance there happened to be a gem expert among the crowd——one never knew.
I stole a cautious glance at the Marquis. He looked perfectly unconcerned; he was not even watching the diamond. He had lit a cigarette and started smoking. His face, a little pinker and a little plumper today than yesterday, showed no emotion beyond a slight shade of boredom with the whole proceedings.