"If a man knew the trick of making paste diamonds," I suggested, "and could substitute one occasionally——! Of course he'd have to make them himself. It wouldn't be safe to buy them."
Jumbo whistled softly. "Can you make them?" he asked.
I confessed that I could.
"But wouldn't the fellows get on to you, I mean the experts you hand the jewels on to?"
As I have already told you, Jumbo knows next to nothing about diamonds, so I felt safe enough in my romancing. "Not likely," I said. "The paste jewels are first rate imitations at first. It's only after a while that they lose their lustre. Of course if I was found out, I'd pass the buck to the fellow who gave them to me. After the new work is returned to the customer there's no danger until the work has to be cleaned or repaired."
"How could a fellow keep all the different sizes and cuttings handy in his pocket?" Jumbo asked.
"In his pocket!" I said scornfully. "He'd be spotted the first day! You make the job last over night, see? Weigh, measure and test the stone you want, and bring the phony stone to match it next morning."
Jumbo was breathing hard in his excitement. I suppose he saw an endless vista of profits, the risk all mine. "But ain't the stones all cut different?" he asked.
"Say, you want to know as much as I do," I said sarcastically.
He fawned on me. "You're dead right, 'boe. That's your private affair."