"I am," Gray declared. "I can sell anything. As for diamonds—I've bought enough in my time to know their value."
Coverly laughed in ready agreement with this statement. "Gad! I'm sore at missing this sale."
"You needn't miss it. I'll go."
"Don't kid an unfortunate—"
"I'm not joking. If it's worth while, pack up your saffron solitaires—all that you dare trust me with—and I'll be your gentlemanly representative."
"Worth while? Good Lord! I'd probably get a ten-thousand-dollar order!"
"Very well. It's settled." Gray's decision had been quickly made. Opportunity had knocked—he was not one to deny her admission, no matter how queer her garb. A hundred thousand dollars' worth of gems! The very figures intrigued him and—diamonds are readily negotiable. There would be a natural risk attached to the handling of so large an amount. A thousand things might happen to a treasure chest of that size. Gray began to believe that his luck had changed.
"Where does Mr. Briskow live?" he inquired.
"Out beyond Ranger, somewhere. But—"
"I'm going to visit that field, anyhow. This will give me an excuse."