“As well as possible,” answered Rowton with a short laugh. “My introductions got me into the best society in the place. I made some friends and saw something of the life.”
“Well, so far so good,” said Piper; “but now for the other part of the business. You sold that black diamond, did you not?”
“I got rid of it for fifteen hundred pounds. I have the money in my breast pocket.”
“Too little,” said Piper, with a frown. “I said it was worth two thousand—you sold it for five hundred pounds below its market value.”
“I could not help that.”
“You were right, Silver, of course you were right,” said Scrivener, coming close up to Piper and Rowton as he spoke. “It would never have done to have brought the black diamond home again—some of us might have swung for it. Good to have it out of the land. You are certain it won’t be traced, though, old chap—remember it has a history.”
“No, it is safe enough,” said Rowton with a grim smile.
“You did right to sell it for fifteen hundred,” repeated Scrivener.
“And I say he did wrong,” exclaimed Piper, stamping his foot as he spoke; “the stone was worth two thousand pounds, and if Rowton had played his cards well he’d have got it.”