“Ha! You here, too?” inquired the older man, peering through his spectacles. “This begins to look serious.”
He shook hands with the stout man and dropped into a chair.
“Well, Meyer, let us get to business at once,” he said briskly. “I must take the early afternoon train back. What’s this cock-and-bull yarn you’ve been writing me about. Begin at the beginning and let us get through with it. Sit down, man—sit down! You make me nervous stamping up and down that way.”
The Hebrew dropped upon a chair and passed his hand over his hair with a nervous gesture.
“You both had my letters in cipher,” he began quickly. “You know about the mysterious diamonds which have been coming in to me for the past few months with such amazing regularity.”
Spreckles nodded.
“Exactly,” he said impatiently. “You purchased them on my instructions at the prevailing price, and I wired you to ascertain where they came from. Have you done so?”
Marcus Meyer made a gesture with his hands.
“I have, so far as has been in my power. There was no difficulty in finding out who they came from. Their original source remains as much a mystery as it was in the beginning. Perhaps, in order that we may have all the facts clearly, I had better tell the whole story briefly.”
He looked questioningly at the white-haired Spreckles, who nodded silently.