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Updated: June 7, 2025
"I must have wounded one of them." "It's a pity you did not kill him," said Nick, bluntly. "Was it you who fired the gun?" "Yes. I tried to fire again, but one of them struck me down before I could do so. The ruffians came upon me before I fairly realized it." "Do you know them?" inquired Chick. "Only one of them, a man named John David," replied Pylotte, now appearing to pull himself together.
Two other persons were present, however, and they were engaged in examining some work on the bench mentioned. One of them was a tall, angular Frenchman, about sixty years of age, named Jean Pylotte. He had a slender figure, somewhat bowed; but his head was massive, in which his gleaming, gray eyes were deeply sunk, like those of a tireless student and hard worker.
But only the best of experts, and after the most rigid tests, could discover the fraud. I never saw such imitations. The stones are really almost as good as natural ones." "Have you them with you?" "Yes." "You feel quite confident that they were manufactured, do you?" "Oh, I am positive of it," cried Pylotte, with emphasis. "That is why I was secretly following the swindler."
I think you are the very man I want." "Go with you!" exclaimed Pylotte, drawing back. "If you please," said Nick, politely. "I want, at least, to hear more of your story." "But who are you, sir?" "My name is Nick Carter." "Not the celebrated detective?" cried Pylotte, with feigned amazement. "Precisely." "That's quite sufficient, Mr. Carter!" the Frenchman now cried, with much bowing and scraping.
"Have you any idea of the machinery and ingredients he might require?" asked Nick, with a view to getting points by which to locate the diamond plant. Pylotte could easily inform him, and he promptly did so, following the instructions given him by Dave Kilgore. "He would require an electric furnace and a hydraulic press," said he. "Also the tools for cutting the crude crystals.
... The Seas did rage, the windes did blowe, Distressed were they then; Their shippe did leake, her tacklings breake, In daunger were her men; But heaven was pylotte in this storme, And to an Iland neare, Bermoothawes called, conducted them, Which did abate their feare. Using the ship's boats they got to shore, though with toil and danger.
"It was in Amsterdam that we first met her nibs," continued Kilgore, with a jerk of his thumb in the direction of Cervera, who was so engaged with Pylotte that neither heeded the talk at the table. "Yes, Dave, we met her just a year ago," nodded Dalton. "She was then doing her dances in a theater there, and we naturally got our peepers onto her diamonds," Kilgore went on to narrate.
My home is in Denver. I am a diamond cutter by trade, and came here to buy some gems for a Denver woman of wealth, who wishes to obtain a certain size and quality." "Then you are a judge of diamonds?" "One of the best," Pylotte modestly admitted, with a faint smile. "I am an expert judge of diamonds, and so it happened that I discovered the swindle of which I am a victim."
"I have no objection to telling you, none at all," Pylotte now replied. "The man I spoke of, John David, swindled me yesterday with two artificial diamonds." "Ah! is that so?" cried Nick, with a significant glance at Chick. "What is your name, my man?" "Jean Pylotte, sir." "Who are you, and where do you live?" "I am a Frenchman by birth, and arrived in New York only this week.
"So we established this plant for Pylotte to do his clever work in," continued Kilgore, disregarding the interruption. "Luckily, Venner already owned this old mansion, as well as that in which he lives; and fortunately, both places are somewhat secluded, with extensive grounds abutting. That enabled us to frame up a very snug and safe retreat." "Sure it did."
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