I whipped the case into
my dressing-gown pocket and stared at him. He was not pleasant to look at,
especially at that time of night. He had a disheveled, desperate air, his
voice was hoarse, his red-rimmed eyes wild.
"I beg your pardon," he began civilly enough. "I saw your light burning,
and thought, as we go by the early train to-morrow, you might allow me to
consult you now on a little business of my mother's." His eyes roved about
the room. Was he trying to find the whereabouts of my safe? "You know a
lot about precious stones, don't you?"
"So my friends are kind enough to say. Won't you sit down? I have
unluckily little chance of indulging the taste on my own account," was my
cautious reply.
"But you've written a book about them, and know them when you see them,
don't you? Now my mother has given me something, and would like you to
give a guess at its value. Perhaps you can put me in the way of disposing
of it?"
"I certainly can do so if it is worth anything. Is that it?" I was in a
fever of excitement, for I guessed what was clutched in his palm. He held
out to me the Valdez sapphire.
How it shone and sparkled like a great blue star! I made myself a
deprecating smile as I took it from him, but how dare I call it false to
its face? As well accuse the sun in heaven of being a cheap imitation.
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