wever, Professor
Schleiermacher was a specimen of that noble type of scientific men
to whom gold was merely the rare metal Au, and diamonds merely the
element C in the scarcest of its manifold allotropic embodiments.
The Professor did not seek to make money out of his discovery. He
rose above the sordid greed of capitalists. Content with the glory
of having traced the element C to its crystalline origin, he asked
no more than the approval of science. However, out of deference to
the wishes of those financial gentlemen who were oddly concerned in
maintaining the present price of C in its crystalline form--in other
words, the diamond interest--they had arranged that the secret
should be strictly guarded and kept for the present; not one of the
few persons admitted to the experiments would publicly divulge the
truth about them. This secrecy would be maintained till he himself,
and a small committee of the Royal Society, should have time to
investigate and verify for themselves the Professor's beautiful
and ingenious processes--an investigation and verification which
the learned Professor himself both desired and suggested.
(Schleiermacher nodded approval.) When that was done, if the
process stood the test, further concealment would be absolutely
futile. The price of diamonds must fall at once below that of paste,
and any protest on the part of the financial world would, of course,
be useless. The laws of Nature were superior to millionaires.
Meanwhile, in deference to the opinion of Sir Charles Vandrift,
whose acquaintance with that fascinating side of the subject nobody
could deny, they had consented to send no notices to the Press, and
to abstain from saying anything about this beautiful and simple
process in public. He dwelt with horrid gusto on that epithet
"beautiful." And now, in the name of British mineralogy, he must
congratulate Professor Schleiermacher, our distinguished guest, on
his truly brilliant and crystalline contribution to our knowledge
of brilliants and of crystalline science.

Everybody applauded. It was an awkward moment. Sir Charles bit his
lip. Mosenheimer looked glum. Young Phipson dropped an expression
which I will not transcribe. (I understand this work may circulate
among families.) And after a solemn promise of death-like secrecy,
the meeting separated.

I noticed that my brother-in-law somewhat ostentatiously avoided
Mosenheimer at the door; and that Phipson jumped quickly into his
own car