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Updated: June 7, 2025
"It's the most perfect blue-white I've ever seen," the expert announced at last. "I dare say it's the most perfect in the world." Mr. Latham arose suddenly and strode over to Mr. Czenki, who was twisting the jewel in his fingers, singling out, dissecting, studying the colorful flashes, measuring the facets with practised eyes, weighing it on his finger-tips, seeking a possible flaw.
Mr. Latham sent an office boy for Czenki, who a few minutes later appeared with an inquiry in his beady black eyes and a nod of recognition for Mr. Schultze. "Sid down, Mr. Czenki," the German invited. "Sid down und draw a long breath, und den dell Mr. Laadham here someding aboud diamonds." "What is it, please?" Mr. Czenki asked of Mr. Latham. "Mr.
Birnes will agree with me when I say that that has nothing whatever to do with this crime," replied Mr. Wynne easily. "That's for me to decide," declared the chief bluntly. There was a long pause. Mr. Czenki was leaning forward in his chair, gripping the arms fiercely, with his lips pressed into a thin line.
"I'm sure I don't know what Mr. Birnes understood," replied the young man, with marked emphasis. "But it's preposterous on the face of it, isn't it? Would a man with a million dollars' worth of diamonds live in a hovel like this?" The chief considered the matter reflectively for a minute or more, the while his keen eyes alternately searched the faces of Mr. Wynne and Mr. Czenki.
"Suppose, for the moment, that Red Haney lied, and that Mr. Czenki is not the murderer, then As a matter of fact your salary isn't twenty-five thousand a year, is it?" He was on his feet now, with blazing eyes, and one hand was thrust accusingly into Mr. Wynne's face. It was simulation; Mr. Birnes understood it; a police method of exhausting possibilities.
He stooped and pressed reverent lips to the marble-white brow, then straightened up and, after one long, lingering look at her, turned quickly and left the room. "I have no statement to make," Mr. Czenki was saying, in that level, unemotional way of his, when Mr. Wynne reentered the room where lay the dead. "We are to assume that you are guilty, then?" demanded Chief Arkwright with cold finality.
"Not yet," replied Mr. Wynne, "but I may possibly get that on my next trip out. Who knows?" There was a long, tense silence. Mechanically Mr. Czenki placed the three spheres and the replicas in an orderly little row on the table in front of him and the uncut stones beside them six, seven, eight million dollars' worth of diamonds. "Gentlemen, are you convinced?" demanded Mr. Wynne suddenly.
Mr. Latham had been listening, as if dazed, to the hurried, somewhat disconnected, narrative; Mr. Schultze, keener to comprehend all that the story meant, was silent for a moment. "Den if all dose men know all he has told us, Laadham," he remarked finally, "our diamonds are nod worth any more as potatoes alretty." "But they don't know," Mr. Czenki burst out fiercely. "Don't you understand?
Chief Arkwright turned and glared scowlingly upon the diamond expert. The beady black eyes were alight with some emotion which he failed to read. "Where are they, Czenki?" demanded the chief harshly. "I have nothing to say," replied Mr. Czenki softly.
Czenki dropped into his chair again. "And now, Mr. Czenki, speaking as an expert, what would you say was the most perfect diamond the world?" asked Mr. Wynne. "The five blue-white stones you mailed to these gentlemen," replied the expert without hesitation. "Perhaps I should have specified the most perfect diamond known to the world at large," Mr. Wynne added smilingly. "The Regent." Again Mr.
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