The visitors were ushered into Murphy’s little parlor.
Monte excused himself for a moment. When he returned, he carried a tray, upon which was a bottle of whisky and some glasses. This display of hospitality quite surprised Enoch.
Murphy bore the reputation of being very close-fisted. The three men drank together, and then Kidd produced the diamond.
The old “fence” took the gem in his hand, and held it near the light. His well-trained facial muscles betrayed no astonishment. His hand trembled as he gazed upon the wondrous stone.
“An emerald, as I remarked before seeing it.”
“That is no emerald!” said Enoch.
Kidd’s jaw fell. The latter knew an emerald, even of that size, was vastly inferior to a diamond in value.
“My friends,” said Monte, “I believe I can honestly claim to correctly tell one jewel from another. I say this is an emerald.”
Murphy knew the stone was what Enoch claimed it to be. Never had he seen a jewel so beautiful. It was worth the ransom of a king.
“But,” continued Monte, after a pause, “emerald though it is, the stone is quite valuable.”