diamond! It was a rose brilliant But such a rose brilliant as the world has never seen!"
Mr. Brooke laughed a little awkwardly. "I say, Fungst, aren't you piling it on?"
"Am I piling it on? You shall see for yourself if I am piling it on." Mr. Fungst took a little leather bag out of an inner pocket of his coat. He handed it to Mr. Brooke. "Open it, and see if I am piling it on."
Mr. Brooke untied the cord which bound the neck of the bag. Within nestled a diamond—a rose brilliant, but of such a hue! "Red as a rose was" not exactly "she," but "it." Mr. Brooke feasted his eyes upon its beauties. The stone was still uncut. Its greatest beauties were therefore still unrevealed. But even in its rough state it was a masterpiece of light and colour.
"What a stone!"
Mr. Fungst stood in front of his friend. He rubbed his hands together. He sprang from foot to foot "Do I pile it on?"
"But, I say, Fungst, this seems to me very like a miracle. I can scarcely credit that such a stone as this was only the other day a pure white diamond with something which looked very like a crack in it."
"I tell you there are mysteries in diamonds which no man understands—not any one."
"What are you going to do with it?"
"That is just the point on which I wished to speak to you. You know J. F. Flinders, the American millionaire? Billionaire he must be, rather, because they say his income is nearly a million yearly. He is in Paris. His daughter is going to be married.
