Elk 03 The Twister, page 15
Julian…did he know of his partner’s predilection? Tony had to consider this possibility. Somehow, though he had a very poor opinion of Julian Reef, he could not credit him with the knowledge of Guelder’s infatuation. Julian himself had had very definite ideas about Ursula’s matrimonial future and it was unlikely, indeed impossible, that he would for a moment countenance the thing that had happened last night.
He got home, had a bath and shaved, and was breakfasting when Mr. Sleser was announced. The millionaire was no close friend of Tony’s; they had had business dealings and on one occasion, which Tony had forgotten, he had been of some service to this thickset and self-made man for whom he had a very high respect.
“Have you breakfasted?” asked Tony.
The thickset gentleman nodded as he pulled up a chair to the table. “I’m the last man in the world you expected to see, Braid,” he smiled amiably. “What I’ve been debating with myself since six o’clock is whether I should let you in or leave you out. You obliged me once, and I never forget a pal. You’re a friend of Reef’s?”
“Emphatically I am not!” said Tony. “I’m glad you asked me, because at the back of my mind I have an idea you’re associated with him in a certain operation.”
Sleser nodded. “He’s not everybody’s money,” he said, “but in a way he’s useful. He may be very, very useful—I don’t know yet. Do you know his partner—or whatever he is?”
“Guelder?”
“The Dutchman—yes. Clever devil, isn’t he?”
“I believe he is,” said Tony, “as a scientist. There’s a rumour in the City that he has discovered a method of making diamonds.”
Sleser chuckled at this. “Not quite! I’d hate to see that happen, though I loathe your crowd.”
He was silent for a long time, evidently turning the matter over in his mind, and at last he said: “I’m not a whale on history, but wasn’t there a fellow who went along and sold Guy Fawkes by telling his friends to keep away from Parliament?”
“There was such a man,” smiled Tony.
“I am he,” said Sleser with emphasis. “You did me a good turn. I want to do you one. Keep out of the diamond market! If you’ve any holdings, sell! The slump yesterday was only child’s play to what will come today. I’m telling you this over, your own table; though I can’t very well ask you to keep it to yourself, I know you enough to believe that you will. They call you The Twister In the City”—his eyes twinkled—“well, I’ve never seen you put a twist on any man yet and I don’t expect you to start with me.”
Tony looked at him thoughtfully. “I’d like to know a little more about this slump. What is behind it, Sleser? Perhaps I may be able to do you another good turn.”
“Very likely,” said Sleser, and putting his hand in his pocket, he took out a fat pocket-book. “I’m showing you something that no outsider has seen.”
He took from the pocket-book a blue paper and opened it carefully. Inside was a little pad of cotton wool, and this he unrolled. “What do you think of that?”
Tony took the diamond and held it against the sleeve of his coat. “She’s rather a beauty! Have you found a new mine?” he asked with a faint smile.
Sleser shook his head. “What is that worth? You know something about these things.”
Tony considered. “Roughly four thousand pounds,” he said, and the stout man nodded.
“You’re within five pounds of it. Now tell me: what would that stone be worth if it were yellow or had a bad tint?”
On this subject Tony was something of an authority. “It would be worth about three hundred pounds, and—good God!” He stared at his visitor. “Yellow diamonds! Guelder has been buying them for months, and I have been wondering what his game was. That’s not a recoloured diamond…is that the discovery?”
Again Sleser nodded. “Last night,” he said impressively, “that was yellow, I saw it turn white under my own eyes. There’s no doubt about it, this man has made a discovery which will revolutionize the diamond market, will send present values down fifty per cent. Don’t you realize, Braid, what this means? Only one diamond in seven is a perfect white stone; this brings even the duds up to top value, it increases the output by six or sevenfold.”
Tony was turning the stone over and over in his hand. Presently he put it down, went to his bureau, and brought out a magnifying glass; the amused Mr. Sleser watched him.
“I’ve tried all that stuff. I’ve had it under a microscope. I got the cleverest people in London out of bed at two this morning and made a thorough examination. It’s white through and through; you can’t fault it. Anyway, it’s been done before, you know. Scientists have turned white diamonds pink; why shouldn’t they turn yellow ones white? Well, what are you going to do? If you’re wise, you’ll sell every share you hold. The only thing I ask is that you’ll keep the secret about the colour changing till twelve o’clock. By then I shall have a statement ready for the Press.”
He put the diamond back in its cotton wool swathing and restored it to his pocket-book.
“That’s about all, I think,” he said, as he rose and offered his hand. “You and I are quits over that African Transport stock you got me out of. If you’re not sensible, I’ll make money out of you. If you’re wise, you’ll make money out of me. I’m going to give the Kimberley crowd the biggest kick in the pants they’ve ever had…so long!”
With a nod he left.
Tony sat before the remains of his breakfast, and thought more quickly and more logically than he had ever done in his life. His own fortune was largely wrapped up in the diamond industry and there could be no question at all that this invention of Guelder’s represented the greatest danger that had ever threatened diamond finance.
He had half promised his friends not to sell, and a half promise, with Tony Braid, was any other man’s deed bond. He knew exactly what would be the effect of this news upon the market, unprepared as the diamond financiers were for the disclosure. Shares would drop to a record low level. He had only to ring up his broker and order him to sell, not only the stocks he held but the stocks he would sell for delivery, to make himself half a million before nightfall. He thought the matter over; in his mind’s eye all the time he saw that square diamond winking and leering at him from the table.
His coffee was cold: he rang for a new pot, and before it was served he put through a call to the chief of the diamond men. “I think you must be prepared for a big slump this morning,” he said. “I can tell you no more.”
“You can’t give me a reason?” asked the man at the other end.
“No, I can’t. I’m practically pledged to silence. Personally, I’m not a seller, I’m a buyer. I suppose it’s an act of lunacy on my part, but I’m going in to support the market, and I want your help—I may want half a million—I have undeveloped platinum fields in the north of Transvaal which will be worth that amount. Will you stake me half a million?”
“To support the market—yes. Tell your banker to get in touch with mine…I know your platinums, so you needn’t send me any description. If you come through without being hurt, I’d like a twenty-five per cent interest in that property.” Tony named a price and in two minutes the deal was through.
And now, irrespective of stocks and shares, or the tragic fall of diamonds, he had a personal matter which required his immediate attention.
Before business began on ‘Change he passed into the block which housed Julian Reef and his multifarious schemes. He saw at a glance when he came to the outer office that the clerical staff had been augmented. There was an atmosphere of unusual activity and something of the electrical influence of this gigantic battle which was being waged in Throgmorton Street had affected the most junior of clerks.
Chapter 26.
“MR. REEF is in, sir, but I don’t know whether he can see you without an appointment.”
There was a certain pomposity and importance in that announcement which made Tony smile. “Take my card,” he said, well knowing that the clerk had recognized him and was passing on to him a little of his employer’s insolence.
Julian kept him waiting for ten minutes, an unfortunate circumstance, as it proved, for half that time had elapsed when there came into the railed space where visitors waited a thin little man, with an old-fashioned hat and very large, broad-toed shoes.
“I must see Mr.—”—he consulted a card—“Mr. Rex Guelder. It is very important. Will you tell him Mr. Samer from Troubridge wishes to see him at once? And will you please tell him it is most urgent? I’ve come up from Troubridge this morning especially to see him.”
“I don’t know whether Mr. Guelder is here,” said the clerk. “Take a seat.”
The old man sat down breathlessly and mopped his bald forehead. He was talkative, in the way of a shy man amongst strangers.
“I left at five o’clock this morning,” he said. “I was very fortunate to get a train. I haven’t been to London for thirty-seven years…the place has changed.”
“Terribly,” admitted Tony. “You live at Troubridge?”
“Yes, sir,” said the old man with some satisfaction. “We have been established in Troubridge for two hundred and thirty-five years. I doubt if there’s any other firm in the town with our record. The business has passed from father to son, and will go eventually to my boy, who is fifty-two and subsequently, I hope, to my grandson, who is also in the business.”
Tony was about to ask the gentleman from Troubridge what his particular business was, but at that moment he was summoned to the august presence of Julian.
Julian was a man transfigured. He moved in an atmosphere of confidence that was almost, Tony told himself, cockiness. And his very reception of his visitor revealed his changed outlook. Yet behind his lordliness, Tony, wise in the ways of men, detected a subtle uneasiness; it almost seemed as though he had to force himself to meet the eyes of the caller. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Braid, but I’m terribly busy just now and I hope your business won’t take you very long. The truth is that for the last week I’ve been working day and night.”
“You ought to find time to go to a shooting-gallery,” said Tony. “Your marksmanship leaves something to be desired.”
Julian forced a laugh. “I saw in the papers that there’d been what they call a shooting affray, that somebody had loosed off a couple of rounds at ‘a famous detective’. I presume that was Elk?”
“The newspaper didn’t say a couple of rounds; it said one round,” said Tony coolly, “and only one newspaper had the report—probably you’re better informed.”
Julian checked a protest: he had already said too much. “What do you want now?”
“I wish to see your Mr. Guelder; I have a bone to pick with him.”
Julian looked bored. “My dear fellow,” he said wearily, “why bother me with your private feuds? Anyway, Guelder isn’t here. He’s gone into the country for a day and I don’t expect to see him until tomorrow. If that’s all you want—” He rose significantly, and looked at the door.
“That is not quite all,” said Tony. “I suppose you know that your Dutch friend is making himself objectionable to Ursula Frensham.”
Evidently he didn’t know, for his expression changed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that he called her up in the night and proposed marriage to her over the telephone. I don’t know whether he was drunk, or suffering from the exuberance of his new discovery.” He saw Julian start. “I know all about it. Sleser came to me this morning, but I’m not using my information till it is published in the newspapers.”
“He called up Ursula—”
“He called up Lady Ursula on the telephone and proposed marriage to her. Are you aware of his tender feelings?”
Julian dropped his eyes. “No,” he said doggedly. “Anyway, I can’t be expected to control Guelder out of business hours.” Yet Tony was judge enough of humanity to know that the news had shocked him. “What does Ursula say about it?” he asked, not raising his eyes.
“Naturally she is not flattered. I came today to see Guelder and tell him that if that is repeated I’ll flog him until he’s sorry. And that also applies, Julian Reef, to vicarious gunmen who take pot-shots at me in the early hours of the morning.”
Julian was about to speak, but Tony went on: “You will also be interested to learn that your friend the valet has been fired. But you probably know that. I expect he came bleating to you this morning. If you’re anxious to find out what is happening in my house, I’ll arrange to have a special bulletin prepared and delivered to you twice daily!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Julian sulkily. “I think you’re mad half the time. Really, you’re a most extraordinary fellow! Anyway, Guelder’s not here. You’d better come and have your quarrel with him when he is. I suppose you’re selling diamonds? You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t. Sleser was a fool to tell you.”
“I’ll pass on the information,” said Tony, and Julian’s look of alarm showed him exactly the awe in which he stood of the great gambler. As he came out the clerk entered and he heard Julian say: “Tell him to come tomorrow—I don’t want to see anybody now or later.”
The message was delivered to the old man in the railed space across the room. “Oh, dear; oh, dear!” he said, gathering up his umbrella and his brown bag. “I don’t know what I shall do—her ladyship will never forgive me.”
The curiosity of Tony was piqued. He held the door open for the gentleman from Troubridge and followed him down into the street.
“It’s a most distressing thing.” He had to tell his trouble to somebody, it seemed. “I’ve never had such a thing happen to me in all the years I’ve been in business. If I could only see Mr. Guelder for a few minutes—”
“I should like to see Mr. Guelder for a few minutes too,” said Tony grimly. And then, touched by the old man’s distress, “Could I help you in any way?”
Mr. Samer shook his head. “I’m afraid you can’t. You see, when I sold the diamond to Mr. Guelder I did so in good faith. I hadn’t realized the terrible mistake my assistant had made.”
Tony was all attention now. “Come along over to my club,” he said. “Perhaps I CAN help you.”
Uttering disjointed words of thanks, Mr. Samer trotted by his side, and in the smoke-room of a City club, deserted at this time of the morning, he told his story.
There was a great lady who lived near Troubridge, no less than the Duchess of Handfield. He, Mr. Samer, kept a big jeweller’s shop and carried a large stock. He and his forefathers had done repairs for Her Grace’s family for hundreds of years. When she sent her diamond ring to be reset, be had taken out the stone very carefully and locked it in his safe. There were other stones which were for sale, and in his temporary absence his assistant (he did not say his son, but Tony gathered that that was mere family pride) had been interviewed by a gentleman from London, who was anxious to buy a square, cushion-shaped diamond.
“What’s that?” said Tony quickly. “Can you tell me the weight?”
“Ten carats,” said the jeweller, “a trifle over. I have the exact weight on the back of the photograph.”
“Go on,” said Tony.
The assistant was naturally flattered when Mr. Guelder said he had heard of the stocks that were carried by the jeweller, and he was anxious to buy a big stone for an engagement ring. The assistant unlocked the safe, took out a number of stones and, most unfortunately, found the Duchess’s diamond; thinking it was available he had offered it for sale. On the paper in which it was wrapped had been written, in Mr. Samer’s own handwriting, “PS4,000”—that being the amount of the short-time insurance he had taken out to guarantee himself against burglary. For PS4,000 the stone had changed hands. Mr. Guelder had paid in banknotes, and had taken his purchase to London. And now the Duchess, who had been abroad, had written to say she was coming home and she hoped the ring would be ready for her.
“And, Mr—, I didn’t catch your name—Mr. Braid, is it? not the racing Mr. Braid? Dear me! I sometimes have a little flutter myself, not to any very great extent, not sufficient to keep myself interested in what I would call the sport of kings. Well, Mr. Braid, that is the position. I must induce Mr. Guelder to let me have the stone back—I don’t mind paying him a hundred pounds on top of the price he paid.”
“Can you describe the diamond a little more carefully?”
“I can show you a photograph of it,” said Mr. Samer eagerly.
He had it, of all places, in his waistcoat pocket; it was, he said, his practice—and had been the practice of his father to photograph all important stones that passed through their hands. His great-grandfather had employed an artist to sketch them for he had lived in the days when photography was in its infancy.
Tony looked at the photograph, a slip of print pasted on a thick strip of cardboard, and his heart leapt.
“I think I can get you back your stone,” he said, and Mr. Samer almost fell upon his neck with gratitude.
As they went out Tony paused in the hall to look at the tape messages that were coming through.
“Looking for diamonds, Mr. Braid?” said the porter and pointed to a strip on a green board. Diamonds were falling sensationally. Stocks that had stood at PS12 on the previous day were now at 9 and 83/4.
“Excuse me a moment while I telephone,” he said to his new friend. Going into one of the booths he called his broker, and gave him explicit instructions. He named three stocks. “Buy,” he said, “and don’t stop buying until my account is set back a million. No, you can go to a million and a half.”
“But the market is falling, Mr. Braid,” said the agonized broker “Don’t you think it would be better—”
“Buy till you’re tired,” said Tony.
He came out and collected the distraught jeweller and hailed a taxi. They drove to the end of Lombard Street, where the Sleser Consolidated Building lifted its grey head high above its fellows, and taking the elevator to the top floor, Tony had the good fortune to buttonhole Sleser’s private secretary, a man with whom he was acquainted.
