Luck at the Diamond Fields

by Dalrymple J. Belgrave

“Sit down, old chap; don’t cut up rough because I talk about old times. Take another cigar, they are up there, and mix for yourself,” Enderby said.

If he had been able to read the expression on Le Mert’s face he would not have been very anxious for his company. The latter, however, did not go, and took another cigar from the mantelshelf.

“Hullo! what’s that? you don’t drink that stuff, do you?” he said, as he touched a little bottle that was near the cigar-box.

“Drink it, no! I have had a bad tooth, and I have been rubbing my gums with it,” Enderby answered, as he looked at the bottle the other was holding up. “Look here, Le Mert,” he continued, when his guest had sat down again, “why don’t you give me a fair price for that stone? you can afford to go in for a spec like that, and make a pot of money out of it.”

“Perhaps I can afford it, but you want too much. I will treat you as well as any one, you will find; we are old friends, and none the worse friends because we know each other pretty well,” Le Mert answered with a peculiar smile. It amused him to think how little the other knew about his real circumstances.

For some time the two sat smoking, Jack rambling away about the earlier days of their acquaintance, and Le Mert saying very little. After a little time Le Mert asked for some more water, and Jack left the room to get some from a tap in the passage outside. As he left the room a look of triumph came into Le Mert’s face, and he got up, took up the little bottle on the mantelshelf, and poured some of its contents into the glass of brandy-and-water Enderby had just mixed. He had just time to get back to his seat, when Enderby came into the room with the water. It would have startled the latter if he could have read the meaning of the look with which Le Mert watched him as he sat down in his chair, glancing listlessly for a second or two at his brandy-and-water before he lifted his glass to his lips. Was he going to sip it, or would he gulp it down as he generally did? Le Mert was wondering. If he took the former course, then Le Mert knew that his chances of getting the diamond would vanish, for Enderby probably would detect the taste of the laudanum.

“You’re infernally silent—what robbery are you hatching now?” Enderby said, as he sat with the glass provokingly held in his hand, while his visitor’s nerves began to jump with excitement. He was not afraid of the consequences being found out, other than losing all chance of the diamond. Enderby, if he suspected him of having tried to drug his drink, would most likely treat him rather roughly, but he would do no more. At last the glass went up to the mouth and was tipped up and put down empty, Enderby saying that there was a queer taste in the brandy.

“Queer taste! I don’t notice it; and I will take some more,” Le Mert said. “Why you remind me of that story of Sam Gideon, of Dutoitspan,” he continued, and he began to tell a story. It was rather a long and involved narrative, and required a good deal of harking back and explanations. Before he got to any point, Le Mert stopped. Enderby’s head had fallen down over his chest and he was insensible.

“Ah! I thought that would do for you. You’d have sat up drinking brandy-and-water all night, and the only effect it would have had on you, would have been to make you more insolent; but that’s done the trick,” Le Mert said, as he looked at the other who was huddled up in a heap in his chair, and going up to him felt for the belt and undid it. Then, as he looked at the diamond, and then at the heavy form of Enderby lying back in the chair, he laughed to himself. The revolver which Enderby had trusted in had not proved of much service to him. When he came to again he would know what the robbery was that he had been hatching. Then Le Mert went to the door.

“Good-bye, Mr Enderby. When you wake you will find Le Mert, the great diamond merchant, a rather more difficult man to come across than you think he is,” he said, as he put on the belt and looked at the figure in the chair. A change seemed to have come over the face, and Le Mert started and went back and bent over it. Then he listened at the heart, and turned pale and shuddered; something told him that Enderby was not merely stupefied. He tried to think what he ought to do, but a panic came over him, and he was mastered by a longing to get out of the room and away. Then he left the room and went down-stairs and out into the streets.