"What's
all this about diamonds? Where are Cloetedorps to-day? Is it
Golconda, or Queer Street?"
Charles drew himself up very stiff. "I fail to understand you,"
he answered, with dignity.
"Why, you were there yourself," the man cried. "Last night at Sir
Adolphus's! Oh yes, it's all over the place; Schleiermacher of Jena
has succeeded in making the most perfect diamonds--for sixpence
apiece--as good as real--and South Africa's ancient history. In less
than six weeks Kimberley, they say, will be a howling desert. Every
costermonger in Whitechapel will wear genuine Koh-i-noors for
buttons on his coat; every girl in Bermondsey will sport a riviere
like Lady Vandrift's to her favourite music-hall. There's a slump
in Golcondas. Sly, sly, I can see; but _we_ know all about it!"
Charles moved on, disgusted. The man's manners were atrocious.
Near the Bank we ran up against a most respectable jobber.
"Ah, Sir Charles," he said; "you here? Well, this is strange news,
isn't it? For my part, I advise you not to take it too seriously.
Your stock will go down, of course, like lead this morning. But
it'll rise to-morrow, mark my words, and fluctuate every hour till
the discovery's proved or disproved for certain. There's a fine
time coming for operators, I feel sure.
Pages:
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150