"Naturally they would. Do you mind telling me how he was accustomed to pay for them?"
"In Bank of England notes—always—cash on the nail. He insisted on discount for cash," added Mr. Abrahams, with a chuckle.
"He was a Scotsman," replied Wimsey. "Well, that's clear enough. He had a safe-deposit somewhere, no doubt. And, having collected the stones, he made his will. That's clear as daylight, too."
"But what has become of the stones?" enquired Mr. Abrahams, with professional anxiety.
"I think I know that too," said Wimsey. "I'm enormously obliged to you, and so, I fancy, will his heir be."
"If they should come into the market again——" suggested Mr. Abrahams.
"I'll see you have the handling of them," said Wimsey promptly.
"That is kind of you," said Mr. Abrahams. "Business is business. Always delighted to oblige you. Beautiful stones—beautiful. If you thought of being the purchaser, I would charge you a special commission, as my friend."
"Thank you," said Wimsey, "but as yet I have no occasion for diamonds, you know."
"Pity, pity," said Mr. Abrahams. "Well, very glad to have been of service to you. You are not interested in rubies? No? Because I have something very pretty here."