“This Randolph,” he began slowly, “receives mail, I suppose—parcels by express and by freight?”
“Very little mail,” the Hebrew answered. “Most of it is apparently from chemical supply houses and other dealers. He seems to have no personal correspondence. It is also rare that anything comes to him by express; but he has a good many pieces of freight, which are invariably delivered by Johnson. So far as I have been able to discover, they also come from supply houses and seem to contain chemicals of some sort.”
“We must make sure,” Spreckles said significantly. “From this moment Randolph must receive nothing into that house which we do not know of. Above all, his letters must be examined carefully.”
Marcus Meyer’s face paled a little.
“But the government——” he protested.
“Tut, tut, my dear Meyer!” Spreckles said calmly. “You are a sensible man, and a clever one. Don’t let us have any foolish qualms when a matter of such moment is at stake. There are plenty of ways in which this can be done quietly and safely by a man of your ability. I leave the details to you, who are on the ground. But I repeat that neither Randolph nor this man Johnson must receive anything which you have not previously read or examined. Well, Pickering?”
The diamond expert returned the stones to their original packets and faced his employer.
“They are identical with the first one,” he said quietly. “Perfect, flawless, and of equal value. I think there can be no question that their source is the same.”
“I expected as much,” Spreckles said quietly. “Though I am not an expert like Pickering, my eyes are still pretty fair, and I have examined a goodly number of diamonds in my life. That will be all for the present, James. Be good enough to wait for me downstairs. I will be through directly and we can take lunch and return on the early train.”
As the door closed behind the diamond expert, Herman Spreckles bent forward a little and fixed his eyes keenly on Marcus Meyer.