“If you could show me a sample—”
“I can show you the bulk.”
“You have got it in the schooner?”
“No, I have got it here.”
“Gold dust?”
“Diamonds. I found them in the Andes, and shall be glad to have your advice as to their disposal.”
“Diamonds! Ach! you are a happy man. If you would like to show me them I can perhaps give you some idea of their value. The house of Goldberg & Van Voorst, at Amsterdam, in which I was brought up, deal largely in precious stones.”
On this I undid my belt and poured the diamonds on a large sheet of white paper, which Mr. Van Voorst spread on his desk.
“Mein Gott! Mein Gott!” he exclaimed in ecstacy, glaring at the diamonds through his big glasses and picking out the finest with his fat fingers. “This is the finest collection of rough stones I ever did see. They are worth—until they are weighed and cut it is impossible to say how much—but at least a million dollars, probably two millions. You found them in the Andes? You could not say where, could you, Mr. Fortescue?”
“I could, but I would rather not.”