pigeonhole of his desk. Then he called Mr.
Flitcroft in.

"Have you gone through your morning mail?" Mr. Latham inquired of the
secretary.

"Yes," he replied. "I have just finished."

"Did you happen to come across a letter bearing on--that is, was
there a letter to-day, or has there been a letter of instructions as
to a single large diamond which was to come, or had come, by mail?"

"No, nothing," replied Mr. Flitcroft promptly. "The only letter
received to-day which referred to diamonds was a notification of a
shipment from South Africa."

Mr. Latham thoughtfully drummed on his desk.

"Well, I'm expecting some such letter," he explained. "When it comes
please call it to my attention. Send my stenographer in."

Mr. Flitcroft nodded and withdrew; and for an hour or more Mr. Latham
was engrossed in the routine of correspondence. There was only an
occasional glance at the box in the pigeonhole, and momentary fits
of abstraction, to indicate an unabated interest and growing
curiosity in the diamond. The last letter was finished, and the
stenographer arose to leave.

"Please ask Mr. Czenki to come here," Mr. Latham directed.

And after a while Mr. Czenki appeared. He was a spare little man,
with beady black eyes, bushy brows, and a sinister scar extending
from the point of his chin across the right jaw. Mr. Czenki drew
a salary of twenty-five thousand dollars a year from the H. Latham
Company, and was worth twice that much. He was the diamond expert
of the firm; and for five or six years his had been the final word
as to quality and value. He had been a laborer in the South African
diamond fields--the scar was an assegai thrust--about the time Cecil
Rhodes' grip was first felt there; later he was employed as an expert
by Barney Barnato at Kimberly, and finally he went to London with
Adolph Zeidt. Mr. Latham nodded as he entered, and took the box
from the pigeonhole.

"Here's something I'd like you to look at," he remarked.

Mr. Czenki removed the cover and turned the glittering stone out into
his hand. For a minute or more he stood still, examining it, as he
turned and twisted it in his fingers, then walked over to a window,
adjusted a magnifying glass in his left eye and continued the
scrutiny. Mr. Latham swung around in his chair and stared at him
intently.

"It's the most perfect blue-white I've ever seen," the expert
announced at last. "I dare say it's the most perfect in the world."

Mr