They breakfasted betimes at the Staarbruckers, and after the meal, Nina having gone into the garden, Otto proceeded to open his proposal to the young Englishman, who had stayed this morning to breakfast. He hinted first that there might be serious difficulty in disposing of so valuable a diamond, and, indeed, as Frank already recognised, that was true enough. The proper course would be to “declare” the stone to the authorities; but would they accept his story—wildly improbable as it appeared on the face of it?
No one in England can realise the thick and poisonous atmosphere of suspicion and distrust in which the immense diamond industry of Kimberley is enwrapped. Its miasma penetrates everywhere, and protected as is the industry by the most severe and brutal—nay, even degrading—laws and restrictions, which an all-powerful “ring” has been able to force through the Cape Parliament, no man is absolutely safe from it. And, even Frank, an employé of the great De Beers Company itself, a servant of proved integrity and some service, might well hesitate before exposing himself to the tremendous difficulty of proving a strong and valid title to the stone in his possession.
“Well, Frank,” said Staarbrucker, “have you made up your mind about your diamond? What are you going to do with it?”
“I don’t quite know yet,” answered Frank, taking his pipe out of his mouth. “It’s an infernally difficult puzzle, and I haven’t hit on a solution. What do you advise?” Here was Otto’s opening.
“Well, my boy,” he answered, “I’ve thought a good deal over the matter, and in my opinion, you’d better keep your discovery to ourselves at present. Now I’m prepared to make you an offer. I’ll find the expenses of a prospecting trip to the place where your crocodile came from, and take a competent miner up with us—I know several good men to choose from—on the condition that, in the event of our finding more stones, or a mine, I am to stand in halves with you. I suppose such a trip would cost three hundred pounds or thereabouts. It’s a sporting offer; what do you say to it?”
“No, I don’t think I’ll close at present,” returned Frank; “I’ll take another few hours to think it over. Perhaps I’ll mention the matter to an old friend of mine, and take his advice.”
Staarbrucker broke in with some heat: “If you’re going to tell all your friends, you may as well give the show away at once. The thing will be all over ‘camp,’ and I wash my hands of it. Let me tell you, you’re doing a most imprudent thing.”
(Kimberley is still called by its early name of “camp” among old inhabitants.)
“Really,” said Frank, coolly enough, “the stone is mine at present, and I take the risk of holding it. I haven’t asked you to run yourself into any trouble on my account.”
“No,” returned the other, “but you are under my roof, and if it became known that I and my sister knew of this find, and of its concealment, we should be practically in the same hole as yourself. Now, my dear boy, take my advice, keep your discovery to yourself till we meet this evening, and let us settle to run this show together. You won’t get a better offer, I’m sure of it.”