One night Cristofano Paternostro, the head of the firm, called at my hotel. He was nervous and ill at ease. He informed me, with many hems and haws, that the ruby Fluette and I had been snarling over was lying at the bottom of the English Channel, and that they would be unable to deliver the goods. He had a good deal to say about the prestige the ruby gave the firm, and much more to the same effect, until I cut him off short. I told him that the ruby was nearer to making him ridiculous.
It seems that after they recovered the stone in Paris, the expert who accompanied them could n't resist the temptation to steal it. Besides being a gem expert and an expert thief, this fellow was accounted an expert swimmer. When the boat was near land he tried to get away with the prize by jumping overboard, under cover of night, and swimming ashore. He did succeed in reaching the nearest land—which is to say, straight down. And that was the last of him, the ruby, and pretty nearly of the three Italians.
Since the ruby could n't be recovered, they agreed to make the best of it. They agreed to keep the matter among themselves, and to continue to reap all the advertising benefits which the supposed possession of such a costly trinket gave them.
It was a joke, that. Here was I, like an old idiot, trying to spend good money for something the other fellow did n't have to sell.
But pretty soon I saw a way to reach my end just the same as though I 'd beat Fluette in the deal. It was a whole lot better than that, in fact. I could get out from under without it costing me a cent, and still make Fluette and the world believe that I had bought the ruby.
"Nice thing for the Paternostros," says I, "when all this comes out."
Cristofano turned green. He begged me not to tell. He promised me the pick of his gems if I 'd only keep the secret.
I looked at him pretty sour. "Very well," says I at last. "You give me the imitation stone. I 'll never disclose the fact that you did n't have the original ruby, if you will announce to the world that it was sold to me for $500,000. As long as you keep your mouth shut, I 'll keep mine."
He was tickled to death. Nothing would do but he must have in the rest of the firm (his brother and cousin). When they came I had a written contract prepared for them, setting forth the terms of our agreement and binding them with a penalty heavy enough to keep them from blabbing. (Contract memo. attached hereto.)
How long we remained silent in the midst of a speechless wonder, I haven't the least idea. Words were wholly inadequate even feebly to express the mingled feelings with which we slowly digested the full force and import of this remarkable document.