consisted of fusing together chips of the natural stones into one larger gem, and the resulting rubies were called reconstructed gems.
Much later, Michaud improved the process with somewhat better success by placing several large fragments of natural rubies in a revolving platinum crucible and heating them to about 180 °C. He obtained fairly large stones by this method, though the product was likely to burst asunder from interior stresses. Reconstructed rubies have now been replaced in the market by synthetic gems manufactured by a process developed by Professor Verneuil in France. In the beginning, Verneuil used small, inferior Burma stones which he crushed into powder, fusing them into one large stone under terrific heat.
Later, he discarded the use of crushed stones and used corundum, a form of alumina, and this process is in use at the present time to produce synthetic gems commercially.
Purified and finely divided alumina is placed in a receptacle…
A complicated and technical description of the Verneuil apparatus and process followed. Shayne skimmed over it until he reached the final summation, which described how difficult it is for the untrained observer to distinguish the artificial from the natural stone. He read this carefully, and made a grimace of disgust when he came to the final line:
As it has not been possible to produce asterism in synthetic rubies, it follows that any star ruby must have been cut from the natural mineral.
Shayne snapped the encyclopedia shut. There it was again! Every time he began formulating a theory, he got hit in the face with the fact that star rubies cannot be produced artificially.
He got up and replaced the offending volume, reminding himself that it was quite an old set and might not contain the newest scientific information available. Walter Voorland was the man to talk to. He probably knew as much about the subject as any man living.
Turning back toward the bedroom door, he was met by Miss Naylor who came out and closed the door gently but firmly. “Miss Hamilton has gone to sleep again. Rest and quiet is all she needs now.”
“Will you be able to stay here with her?”
“Dr. Price will be looking in soon. If he can’t get a relief nurse, I can rest here on the couch with the door open so I’ll hear her if she calls. Get along with your detecting if that’s what you want to do,” she ended with a bright smile.
“Do you know how to shoot a revolver?” Shayne asked.
Miss Naylor went over to the table and picked up the heavy weapon, released the cylinder and swung it out, revealing six cartridges. She snapped the cylinder back and lifted it with one hand. “Nice balance,” she said. “Most of these double-actions don’t carry enough weight in the muzzle.”
“Amazing,” said Shayne. “Do all trained nurses like to play gin rummy and know the fine points of firearms?”
“Probably not. I was an army nurse.”
“You’re marvelous,” said Shayne fervently. “I don’t know why I bothered to ask for a police guard last night.”
Miss Naylor chuckled. “I won a few bucks from him,” she reminded Shayne, her eyes twinkling.
“I’ll leave you on guard this time. Don’t let anyone in except the doctor or me. No one,” he went on with emphasis. “Whoever attacked Miss Hamilton last night must realize she is alive and capable of identifying him. He may come back.”
Outside the hotel, he got in his car and drove across the Venetian Causeway to Miami Beach. Walter Voorland lived in a large apartment near the bay and a little south of the Causeway. He was a bachelor, and had maintained the apartment for years, and Shayne had visited him on occasion in the past.
Voorland’s colored man met him at the door when he rang the bell. If he was surprised to see the detective at this early hour his face didn’t show it. He said, “Come right in, Mistuh Shayne. Mistuh Voorland is taking a shower right now.”
He led the detective into a big square living-room where two good paintings were hung on the wall and a few carefully selected objets d’art were tastefully displayed. The furnishings were masculine and luxurious. Shayne went across to long French doors leading out onto an iron-railed balcony and stood there thoughtfully smoking a cigarette while the Negro went to inform the jeweler that he had an early visitor.
He smoked two cigarettes before Voorland showed up in a gray bathrobe and sandals, his ruddy face shining with good health and the effects of a cold shower.
“Shayne!” he exclaimed. “I suppose it’s something about the bracelet. Have you recovered it?”
“Not quite.” Shayne walked over to a table and crushed out the cigarette. “Sorry to bother you so early, but I need a little dope.”
“Not at all. Glad to help any way at all. What sort of information do you want?”
“Two or three things,” said Shayne. “First, do you remember the stones you sold to a couple of men named King and Kendrick? A few years ago.”
“Certainly. Here, have a seat.” He indicated two chairs companionably close together and sat down. Shayne sat down and stretched his long legs out. “Two of the finest star rubies that have ever passed through my hands,” Voorland resumed. “King purchased a ring and Kendrick a pendant. Truly remarkable stones.”
“Do you know that both of those were stolen shortly after you sold them-and never recovered?”
“I believe you’re right. Yes, I do recall that. You begin to interest me.”
“Is there the slightest possibility that either of those stones were fakes?”
“Not the slightest.” Voorland seemed neither surprised nor angry, merely certain of his judgment.
“I’d like to know how you can be so sure,” Shayne persisted. “I recall hearing you tell Mr. and Mrs. Dustin that synthetic stones will stand practically every chemical test.”
“Practically every test,” Voorland agreed. “But there are certain tests no synthetic stone can meet.”
“But suppose those tests weren’t applied,” Shayne argued. “Suppose, for instance, you bought a stone from a reputable dealer. You’d take his word for its being genuine. Suppose he, in turn, had taken another man’s word for the stone-and so on down the line-with no one bothering to make those tests.”
Voorland smiled whimsically. “As a matter of fact, exactly that thing has happened. It is a well-known yarn in the trade. An Amsterdam dealer bought a large ruby from an exiled Russian Grand Duchess whom he knew personally. It was consigned to a firm in Paris, who in turn passed it on to a London expert, and he sold it to an American retailer. All honest men. Yet, the ruby was synthetic. Each expert along the line had trusted the other to have applied the necessary tests.”
Shayne spread out his hands. “There you are. How can you be so sure-?”
“That a star ruby must be genuine? Because they cannot be manufactured, Mike. The synthetic process makes such a thing an impossibility.”
“Explain that to me. Just what is the process?”
Walter Voorland fished in the pocket of his robe for a stick of gum. He peeled the paper off and thrust the gum in his mouth, made a few smacking sounds, then placed both hands precisely on his knees.
“The present successful process is known as the Verneuil Process and was perfected by Professor Verneuil in nineteen hundred and two. He had been working on it with others for many years. Ebelman, Fremy and Feil, Eisner and Debray. The making of artificial rubies attracted more scientists than other gems because rubies have the peculiar property of losing color under great heat, only to regain it when they cool. Other gems do not regain their natural color after excessive heat.
“The first successful method was to take small, inferior Burma gems and grind them into a fine powder. By subjecting this powder to terrific heat and pressure, the powdered stones were fused into one large one. Actually, a real ruby. With every chemical property still intact. Nothing added and nothing taken away.” Voorland paused and chewed his gum while Shayne waited for him to continue.
“A ruby is actually nothing more than crystallized corundum. Alumina, basically, with a small amount of chromium oxide to give it the characteristic color. So Verneuil went back to nature and used powdered alumina itself, adding enough chromium oxide to produce the exact color desired. These are fused at intense heat in a complicated furnace apparatus and a mass is formed which is called a boule or birne.
“I could go on like this for hours,” the expert said with a slight show of impatience, “but I’m sure you get the important point. It is simply a physical impossibility to produce synthetically a stone which has the natural faults we call asterism. The star ruby. This may surprise you, but a star ruby is actually a faulty stone. Crystallization under
