"Piffle!" snorted Burlingame. "Mush! It's greed, pure and simple, that

gives precious stones their sinister histories. You'd have been hit by

that horse if you had picked up nothing more valuable than a rhinestone

buckle. Take away the gold lure, and precious stones wouldn't sell at

the price of window glass."

"Is that so? How about me? It isn't because a stone is worth so much

that makes me want it. I want it for the sheer beauty; I want it for the

tremendous panorama the sight of it unfolds in my mind. I imagine what

happened from the hour the stone was mined to the hour it came into my

possession. To me--to all genuine collectors--the intrinsic value is

nil. Can't you see? It is for me what Balzac's La Peau de Chagrin would

be to you if you had fallen on it for the first time--money, love,

tragedy, death."

An interruption came in the form of one of the office boys. The chief

was on the wire and wanted Cutty at once.

"At half after twelve, Kitty. And by the way," added Cutty as he rose,

"they say about the drums that a beautiful woman is immune to their

danger."

"There's your chance, Kitty," said Burlingame.

"Am I beautiful?" asked Kitty, demurely.

"Lord love the minx!" shouted Cutty. "A corner in Mouquin's."

"Rain or shine." After Cutty had departed Kitty said: "He's the most

fascinating man I know. What fun it would be to jog round the world with

a man like that, who knew everybody and everything. As a little girl I

was violently in love with him; but don't you ever dare give me away."

"You'll probably have nightmare to-night. And honestly you ought not to

live in that den alone. But Cutty has seen things," Burlingame admitted;

"things no white man ought to see. He's been shot up, mauled by animals,

marooned, torpedoed at sea, made prisoner by old Fuzzy-Wuzzy. An

ordinary man would have died of fatigue. Cutty is as tough and strong

as a gorilla and as active as a cat. But this jewel superstition is all

rot. Odd, though; he'll travel halfway round the world to see a ruby or

an emerald. He says no true collector cares a cent for a diamond. Says

they are vulgar."

"Except on the third finger of a lady's left hand; and then they are

just perfectly splendid!"

"Oho! Well, when you get yours I hope it's as big as the Koh-i-noor."




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