I went up
tentatively to four hundred. He shook his head gloomily. It wasn't
a question of money, he said. It was a question of affection. I saw
it was no use trying that tack any longer. I struck out a new line.
"These stones," I said, "I think I ought to inform you, are really
diamonds. Sir Charles is certain of it. Now, is it right for a man
of your profession and position to be wearing a pair of big gems
like those, worth several hundred pounds, as ordinary sleeve-links?
A woman?--yes, I grant you. But for a man, is it manly? And you a
cricketer!"
He looked at me and laughed. "Will nothing convince you?" he cried.
"They have been examined and tested by half a dozen jewellers, and
we know them to be paste. It wouldn't be right of me to sell them
to you under false pretences, however unwilling on my side. I
_couldn't_ do it."
"Well, then," I said, going up a bit in my bids to meet him,
"I'll put it like this. These gems are paste. But Lady Vandrift
has an unconquerable and unaccountable desire to possess them.
Money doesn't matter to her. She is a friend of your wife's. As a
personal favour, won't you sell them to her for a thousand?"
He shook his head. "It would be wrong," he said,--"I might even add,
criminal."
"But we take all risk," I cried.
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