"I know each of them to be worth anywhere from forty to fifty thousand dollars," he said quietly. "They're the kind the crowned heads scoop for jewels of state."
I nodded, and, getting up carelessly, I strolled to a window.
"Devilish lovely night," I said, poking my head out. And it was. Stars overhead and all that sort of thing, and lots of them below, too—I could hear them singing over on Broadway.
"All right, old chap; then here they go into the street," I said. "If my friend can't have 'em, then no jolly crowned heads shall. That's flat!"
Billings started forward with a regular scream.
I waved him back. "Don't come any nearer, old chap," I said, holding my arm out of the window, "or, dash me, I'll drop them instantly. Six stories, you know—stone flagging below."
"But, Dicky—"
"If you don't say you'll take 'em, time I count three, I'll give 'em a toss, by Jove! One!"
"Here, Dicky! Don't be a—"
"Two!" I counted. No bluff, you know; I meant jolly well to do it.