They all three bent over the little collection of jewels. Aaron Rodd's expression was one of simple curiosity. His knowledge of diamonds was nil. His partner's manner, on the other hand, underwent a curious change. There was a hard glitter in his eyes and unsuspected lines about his mouth. The atmosphere of the little room had become charged with new forces. The girl's face was tense with excitement, the old man seemed suddenly and subtly different.
"Do not waste time," the former begged, a little feverishly. "It is not safe to bring these jewels into the daylight, even here. If you will buy, state your price. Give us an idea. We can meet again, perhaps."
Harvey Grimm turned towards them.
"The small stones are negligible," he pronounced. "The large stone is worth quite as much as you say. To cut it up, however, and then sell it in a secret market, is another thing. The most you could hope for would be five thousand pounds."
The girl's face was a little vague.
"Tell me," she enquired, "in English money how much is that a year?"
"Two hundred and fifty pounds."
"So that if there were ten stones like that," she went on, a little wistfully, "that would be an income of two thousand, two hundred and fifty pounds. One could live comfortably on that? One could hide somewhere in a quiet country place and live like gentlefolk?"
"Certainly," Harvey Grimm assured her.
She turned a little doubtfully towards her companion.