The veins stood out on Sir Raymond’s forehead.
“You have the brazen effrontery to sit there and maintain that our offer to you did not include the destruction of the secret? Do you imagine we should have been so incredibly foolish as to pay you a large sum of money merely to transfer those papers from his pocket to yours?”
Mr. Blackton shrugged his shoulders.
“The longer I live, my dear Sir Raymond, the more profoundly do I become impressed with how incredibly foolish a lot of people are. But, in this case, do not let us call it foolishness. A kinder word is surely more appropriate to express your magnanimity. There are people who say that business men are hard. No—a thousand times, no. To present me with the secret was charming; but to force upon me half a million pounds sterling as well was almost extravagant.”
“Hand it over—or I’ll kill you like a dog.”
Mr. Blackton’s eyes narrowed a little; then he smiled.
“Really, Sir Raymond—don’t be so crude. I must beg of you to put that absurd weapon away. Why, my dear fellow, it might go off. And though I believe capital punishment has been abolished in most of the cantons in Switzerland, I don’t think imprisonment for life would appeal to you.”
Slowly the other man lowered his revolver.
“That’s better—much better,” said Mr. Blackton approvingly. “And now, have we anything further to discuss?”
“What do you propose to do?” asked Sir Raymond dully.
“Really, my dear fellow, I should have thought it was fairly obvious. One thing you may be quite sure about: I do not propose to inform the Royal Society about the matter.”
“No, but you propose to make use of your knowledge yourself?”
“Naturally. In fact I propose to become a millionaire many times over by means of it.”
“That means the ruin of all of us.”
“My dear Sir Raymond, your naturally brilliant brain seems amazingly obtuse this evening. Please give me the credit of knowing something about the diamond market. I shall place these stones with such care that even you will have no fault to find. It will do me no good to deflate the price of diamonds. Really, if you look into it, you know, your half-million has not been wasted. You would have been ruined without doubt if Professor Goodman had broadcasted his discovery to the world at large. Every little chemist would have had genuine diamonds the size of tomatoes in his front window. Now nothing of the sort will happen. And though I admit that it is unpleasant for you to realise that at any moment a stone worth many thousands may be put on the market at the cost of a fiver, it’s not as bad as it would have been if you hadn’t called me in. And one thing I do promise you: I will make no attempt to undersell you. My stones will be sold at the current market price.”
Sir Raymond stirred restlessly in his chair. It was perfectly true what this arch-scoundrel said: it was better that the secret should be in the hands of a man who knew how to use it than in those of a unpractical old chemist.
“You see, Sir Raymond,” went on Mr. Blackton; “the whole matter is so simple. The only living people who know anything about this process are you and your syndicate—and I. One can really pay no attention to that inconceivable poop—I forget his name. I mean the one with the eyeglass.”
“There’s his friend,” grunted Sir Raymond—“that vast man.”
“You allude to Drummond,” said Mr. Blackton softly.
“That’s his name. I don’t know how much he knows, but he suspects a good deal. And he struck me as being a dangerous young man.”
“Drummond! Dear fellow. My darling,” he turned to the girl, “I have some sad news for you. In the excitement of Sir Raymond’s visit, I quite forgot to tell you. Poor Drummond is no more.”
The girl sat up quickly.
“Dead! Drummond dead! Good heavens! how?”
“It was all very sad, and rather complicated. The poor dear chap went mad. In his own charming phraseology he got kittens in the granary. But all through his terrible affliction, one spark of his old life remained: his rooted aversion to me. The only trouble was that he mistook someone else for your obedient servant, and at last his feelings overcame him. I took him for a short sea-voyage, with the gentleman he believed was me, and he rewarded me by frothing at the mouth, and jumping overboard in a fit of frenzy, clutching this unfortunate gentleman in the grip of a maniac. They were both drowned. Too sad, is it not?”
“But I don’t understand,” cried the girl. “Good heavens! what’s that?”
From a large cupboard occupying most of one wall came the sound of a cork being extracted. It was unmistakable, and a sudden deadly silence settled on the room. The occupants seemed temporarily paralysed: corks do not extract themselves. And then a strange pallor spread over Mr. Blackton’s face, as if some ghastly premonition of the truth had dawned on him.
He tottered rather than walked to the cupboard and flung it open. Comfortably settled in the corner was Drummond. In one hand he held a corkscrew, in the other a full bottle of Napoleonic brandy, which he was sniffing with deep appreciation.
“I pass this, Carl,” he remarked, “as a very sound liqueur brandy. And if you would oblige me with a glass, I will decide if the taste comes up to the bouquet. A tooth-tumbler will do excellently, if you have no other.”
The pallor grew more sickly on Blackton’s face as he stared at the speaker. He had a sudden sense of unreality; the room was spinning round. It was untrue, of course; it was a dream. Drummond was drowned: he knew it. So how could
