CHAPTER XI. He stood looking at her with earnest thoughtful eyes, suddenly the woman's soul within her awoke in a surging, inexplicable wave of emotion which almost overcame her. And after it came something of realization of the great fight he was making for her, for her and her aged, feeble grandfather waiting patiently out there. He loved her this master among men, and she sighed contentedly. For the moment the maddening anxiety that brought her here was forgotten there was only the ineffable sweetness of seeing him again. She extended her hands to him impulsively, and he kissed them both. The difficulty of you leaving here, he went on after a little, is that you would be followed and within two hours these men would know all about you, where you are stopping, how long you have been there, they would know of your daily telephone messages to your grandfather, and then, inevitably, they would appear out there and learn all of the rest of it. It doesn't matter how closely they keep watch of me, my plans are all made, I know I am watched, and I make no mistakes, but you. So I should not have come, she questioned. I'm sorry. I understand your anxiety, of course, he assured her, and he was smiling a little, but the worst never happens, so for the present we will not worry. In an hour or more now I imagine we shall receive a pigeonogram which will show that all is well, and then I shall have to plan for you to get away somehow.  The red lips were mutely raised, and he kissed her reverently. It's all for you, and it will all be right, he assured her. Jeanne, dear Jeanne. He pressed a button on the wall, and a mate appeared. You will have to wait for a couple of hours or so, at least, so if you would like to take off your things, he suggested with grave courtesy. I dare say the suite just above is habitable, and the mate is at your service. The girl regarded him pensively for a moment, and then turning ran swiftly up the stairs. The maids started to follow more stately. Just a moment, said Mr. Wynn crisply, in an undertone. Miss Kellner is not to be allowed to use the telephone under any circumstances.  She nodded silently, and went up the stairs. An hour passed. From the swivel chair at his desk, Mr. Wynn had twice seen Sutton stroll past on the opposite side of the street, and then Claflin had lounged along. Suddenly he arose and went to the window, throwing back the curtains. Sutton was leaning against an electric pole half a block away. Claflin was half a block off in the other direction, in casual conversation with a policeman. Mr. Wynn looked them over thoughtfully. Curiously enough he was wondering just how he would fare in a physical contest with either or both. He turned away from the window at last and glanced at his watch impatiently. One hour and forty minutes. In another half hour the little bell over his desk should ring. That would mean that a pigeon had arrived from—from out there, and that the automatic door had closed upon it as it entered the coat. But if it didn't come—if it didn't come—then what? There was only one conclusion to be drawn, and he shuddered a little as he thought of it. There could only remain this single possibility when he considered the sinister things that had happened, the failure of the girl to get an answer by telephone, and the unexpected appearance of Red Haney with the uncut diamonds. It might be necessary for him to go out there, and how could he do it? How without leaving an open trail behind him? How without inviting defeat in the fight he was making? His meditations were interrupted by the appearance of Miss Kellner. She had crept down the stairs noiselessly and stood beside him before he was aware of her presence. Her eyes sought his countenance questioningly, and the deadly pallor of her face frightened him. She crept into his arms and nestled there silently, with dry, staring eyes. He stroked the golden brown hair with an utter sense of helplessness. Nothing yet, he said finally, and there was a thin assumption of cheeriness in his tone. It may be another hour, but it will come. It will come. But if it doesn't, Jean, she queried insistently, always her mind went back to that possibility. We shall cross no bridges until we reach them, he replied. There is always a chance that the pigeons might have gone astray, for they have this single disadvantage against the incalculable advantage of offering no clue to anyone as to where they go, and it is impossible to follow them. If nothing comes in half an hour now, I shall send two more. And then, if nothing comes, then, my dear, then we shall begin to worry. Half an hour passed, the little bell was silent, Claflin and Sutton were still visible from the window. Miss Kellner's eyes were immovably fixed on Mr. Wynn's face, and he repressed his gnawing anxiety with an effort. Finally he wrote again on the tissue slips three of them this time, and together they climbed to the roof, attached the messages, and watched the birds disappear. Another hour, two hours, two hours and a half passed. Suddenly the girl arose with pallid face and colorless lips. I can't stand it, Jean. I can't, she exclaimed hysterically. I must know. The telephone? No, he commanded harshly, and he too arose. No. I will, she flashed. She darted out of the room and along the hall.  She seized the receiver from the hook and held it to her ear. Hello, called Central. Give me long distance, Coaldale, number. No, commanded Mr. Wynn, and he placed one hand over the transmitter tightly. Doris, you must not. I will, she flamed, let me alone. You'll ruin everything, he pleaded earnestly. Don't you know that they get every number I call? Don't you know that within fifteen minutes they will have that number, and their men will start for there?   I will know what has happened out there. I must, Jean, don't you see that I'm frantic with anxiety. The money means nothing to me. I want to know if he is safe. His hand was still gripped over the transmitter. Suddenly she turned and tugged at it fiercely. Her sharp little nails bit into the flesh of his fingers. In a last desperate effort she placed the receiver to her lips. Give me long distance, Coaldale, number. With a quick movement he snapped the connection wire from the instrument, and the receiver was free in her hand. Doris you are mad, he protested. Wait a minute, my dear girl, just a minute. I don't care, I will know. Mr. Wynn turned and picked up a heavy cane from the hall stand, and brought it down on the transmitter with all his strength. The delicate mechanism jangled and tingled.  The diaphragm dropped and rolled away. Doris you must not, he commanded again gravely. We will find another way, dear.  It was cowardly.  I understand it all, she broke in. I understand that this might lead to the failure of the thing you are trying to do, but I don't care. I understand that already I have lost my father, and my brother in this, that my grandmother and my mother were nearly starved to death while it was all being planned, all for these hideous diamonds. Diamonds, diamonds, diamonds, I've heard nothing all my life but that. As a child it was dinned into me, and now I am sick and weary of it all.  She stopped, glared at him with scornful eyes for an instant, then ran up the stairs again. Mr. Wynn touched a button in the wall, and the maid appeared.  The maid went away, and a moment later returned to hand him the key. He still stood in the hall, waiting. After a little there came a rush of skirts, and Miss Kellner ran down the steps dressed for the street. Doris, he pleaded, you must not go out now, wait just a moment. You'll find a way, and then I'll go with you. She tried to pass him, but his outstretched arms made her a prisoner. Do I understand that you refuse to let me go? She asked tensely. Not like this, he replied. If you'll give me just a little while then perhaps, perhaps I may go with you. Even if something had happened there you could do nothing alone, I too am afraid now. Just half an hour, fifteen minutes, perhaps I may be able to find a plan. Suddenly she sank down on the stairs with her face in her hands. He caressed her hair tenderly, then raised her to her feet. Suppose you step into the back parlor here, he requested. Just give me fifteen minutes. Then unless I can find a way for us to go together safely, we will throw everything aside and go anyway. Forgive me, dear. He submitted quietly to be led along the hall. He opened the door into a room and stood aside for her to pass. Gene, Gene, she exclaimed, her soft arms found their way around his neck, and she drew his face down and kissed him then without a word. She entered the room and closed the door. A minute passed, two, four, five, and Mr. Wynn stood as she left him. Then he opened the front door and stepped out. Frank Claflin was just starting toward the house from the corner with a deliberate pace when he glanced up and saw Mr. Wynn signalling for him to approach. Could it be possible? He had had no orders about talking to this man, but perhaps he was going to give it up. And with this idea he accelerated his pace and crossed the street. Oh, Mr. Claflin, will you step in just a moment, please? requested Mr. Wynn courteously. Why? demanded the detective suspiciously. There's a matter I want to discuss with you, responded Mr. Wynn. It may be that we can reach some sort of an agreement about this, and if you don't mind. Wynn went up the steps. Mr. Wynn ushered him in and closed the door behind him. Three minutes later Mr. Wynn appeared on the steps and beckoned to Sutton, who had just witnessed the incident just proceeding and was positively being eaten by curiosity. This is Mr. Sutton, isn't it, inquired Mr. Wynn. Yes, that's me. While Mr. Claflin and I are discussing this matter, and my proposition to him was such that he felt it must be made in your presence. Would you mind stepping inside for a moment? You and the girl decided to give it up, queried Mr. Sutton triumphantly. We are just discussing the matter now, was the answer. Sutton went up the steps and disappeared inside. About four minutes after that Mr. Wynn stood in the hallway, puffing a little as he readjusted his necktie. He picked up his hat, drew on his gloves, and then wrapped on the door of the back parlor. Miss Kellner appeared. We will go now, said Mr. Wynn quietly. But is it safe, Jean? She asked quickly. Perfectly safe, yes. There's no danger of being followed if we go immediately. She gazed at him, wonderingly, then followed him to the door. He opened it and she passed out, glancing around curiously. For one instant he paused, and there came a clatter and clammer from somewhere in the rear of the house. He closed the door with a grim smile. Which are the detectives? asked Miss Kellner, in an odd whisper. I don't see them around just now, he replied. We can get a cab at the corner. End of CHAPTER XI. CHAPTER XII of the Diamond Master by Jacques Futrell. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. CHAPTER XII THE THIRD DEGREE Some years ago a famous head of the police department clearly demonstrated the superiority of a knockout blow, frequently administered, as against moral suasion, and from that moment the third degree became an institution. Whatever sort of criticism may be made of the third degree, it is nevertheless amazingly effective, and beyond that, affords infinite satisfaction to the administrator. There is a certain vicious delight in brutally smashing a sullen helpless prisoner in the face, and the third degree is not officially in existence. Red Haney was submitted to the third degree, his argument that he found the diamonds and that having found them they were his until the proper owner appeared was Futrell. Ten minutes after having passed into a room, where sat Chief Arkwright of the Mulberry Street Force and three of his men, and Mr. Burns of the Burns Detective Agency, Haney remembered that he hadn't found the diamonds at all, somebody had given them to him. "'Who gave them to you?' demanded the Chief. "'I don't know the guy's name, boss,' Haney replied humbly. "'This is to remind you of it.' Haney found himself sprawled on the floor and looking up with a pleading piteous expression.  The Chief stood above him with a clenched fist. "'On the level, boss, I don't know,' he whined. "'Get up,' commanded the Chief. Haney struggled to his feet and dropped into his chair. "'What's he look like, this man who gave them to you? Where did you meet him? Why did he give them to you?' "'Now, boss, I'm going to give you the straight goods,' Haney pleaded. "'Don't hit me any more, and I'll tell you all I know about it.' The Chief sat down again with scowling face. Haney drew a long breath of relief. "'He's a little skinny-feller, boss,' the prisoner went on to explain. For a while he thoughtfully caressed his jaw. "'I meet him out here in a little town called Willow Creek. Me haven't swung off the freight there to get something to eat. Just got a couple of handouts, and he passes one to me, and we get to talking. He gets to telling me something about a nutty old gazebo who lives in the next town, which he had just left. This old bazoo, he says he has a hat full of diamonds up there, but they ain't polished or nothing, and he's there by himself, and is old and simple, and it's fine to money, he says, to go over and take him away from him. He reckoned there must be a thousand dollars' worth altogether.' "'Well, he puts the proposition to me,' Haney continues, circumstantially, and I falls for it. Where to go over, and I'm to pipe it all off, to see it's all right, then I'm to sort of hang around and keep watch, while he goes in and gives the old nut a gentle tap on the cocoa, and cops the sparks. That's what we done. I goes up and takes a few looks around, then I whistles, and he appears from the back, and goes up to the kitchen for a handout. The old guy opens the door, and he goes in.  He catches a freight going west, and I swings one for Jersey City. When was this?' demanded Chief Arkwright. "'What's to-day?' Haney asked in turn. "'This is Sunday morning.' "'Well, it was yesterday morning sometime Saturday. When I gets to Jersey I take one of the little rocks and goes into a place, shows it to the barkeep. He gives me a lot of booze for it, and I guess I get considerable lit up. And he also gives me some money to pay ferry fare, and the next thing I knows I'm nabbed over in the hawk-shop.' I guess I was lit up good, because if I'd been right I wouldn't have went to a hawk-shop and got pinched. He glanced around at the five other men in the room, and he read belief in each face, whereupon he drew a breath of relief. "'What town was it?' asked the Chief. "'Little place named Coaldale.' "'Coaldale,' the Chief repeated thoughtfully. Where is that?' "'About forty or fifty miles out in Jersey,' says Haney. "'I know the place,' remarked Mr. Burns. "'Are you sure, Haney?' said the Chief after a pause. "'You are sure you don't know the other man's name?' "'I don't know it, boss.' "'Who was the man you robbed?' "'I don't know.' The Chief arose quickly and the prisoner cringed in his seat. "'I don't know,' he went on, protestingly. "'Don't hit me again.' But the Chief had no such intention. It was merely to walk back and forth across the room. What kind of a man was he, a tramp?' Haney faltered and thoughtfully pulled his underlip. The cunning brain behind the bleary eyes was working now. "'I wouldn't call him a tramp,' he said evasively. He had on collar and cuffs and good clothes and talk sort of easy. "'Little skinny man,' you said, what color was his hair?' The Chief turned in his tracks and regarded Haney with keen, inquiring eyes. The prisoner withstood the scrutiny bravely. "'Sort of blackish, brownish hair?' "'Black, you mean?' "'Well, yes, black.' And his eyes?' "'Black eyes, little and round, like gimlet holes.' "'Heavy eyebrows, I suppose?' "'Yes,' Haney agreed readily. They sort of stuck out.' And his nose, big or little, heavier thin, Haney considered that thoughtfully for a moment before he answered, then, "'Sort of medium nose, boss, with a point on it.' And a thin face, naturally. How much did he weigh?' "'Oh, he was a little feller, skinny, you know. I reckon he didn't weigh more than a hundred, twenty-five or thirty. One germ had been born in the fertile mind of Mr. Burns. Now it burst into maturity. He leaned forward in his chair and stared coldly at Haney. "'Perhaps,' he suggested slowly. Perhaps he had a scar on his face.' Haney returned the gaze dullly for an instant, then suddenly he nodded his head. "'Yes, a scar,' he said. From here Mr. Burns placed one finger on the point of his chin and drew it across his right jaw. "'Yes, a scar, that's it,' the prisoner acquiesced, from his chin almost around his ear. Mr. Burns came to his feet while the official police stared.  "'Why, what do you know, Burns?' he queried. "'I know the—'man,' chief, the detective burst out confidently. "'I'd gamble my head on it. I knew it. I knew it,' he told himself. Again he faced the tramp.  Must have been three or four hundred dollars.' Something like fifty thousand dollars, Mr. Burns informed him impressively. And if you got fifty thousand dollars for your share, the other man got a million.' Haney only stared. CHAPTER XIII Mr. Zanky appears. Half an hour later Mr. Burns, Chief Arkwright and Detective Sergeant Connolly were on a train, bound for Coaldale. Mr. Burns had left them for a moment at the ferry, and rushed into a telephone booth. When he came out he was exuberantly triumphant. "'It's my man, all right,' he assured the chief. "'He has been missing since Friday night, and no one knows his whereabouts. It's my man.'" It was an hour's ride to Coaldale, a sprawling, scraggly village, with only four or five houses in sight from the station. When the three men left the train there, Mr. Burns walked over and spoke to the agent, a thin, cadaverous, tobacco-chewing specimen of his species. "'We are looking for an old gentleman who lives out here somewhere,' he explained. "'He probably lives alone, and we've been told that he has a little cottage somewhere over this way.' He waved his hand vaguely to the right, in accordance with the directions of Red Haney. The station agent scratched his stubbly chin, and spat with great accuracy through a knothole ten feet away. "'Spec, do you mean old man Kellner?' he replied obligingly. He lives by himself part of the time, then again, sometimes his granddaughter lives with him.' "'Granddaughter?' Mr. Burns almost jumped. "'A granddaughter?' "'Yes,' he said with a forced calm. "'Rather a pretty girl, twenty-two or three years old? Sometimes she dresses in blue.' "'Yes,' the agent agrees. "'Spec them's them. Follow the road down till you come to the widow-gardener's hoglot, then turn to your left, and it's about a quarter of a mile on. The only house up that way. You can't miss it.' The agent stood squinting at them, with friendly inquiry radiating from his parchment-like countenance, and Mr. Burns took an opportunity to ask some other questions. "'By the way, what sort of a man is this Kellner? What does he do? Is he wealthy?' A pleasant grin overspread the informant's face. One finger was raised to his head, and twirled significantly. "'Spec he's crazy,' he went on to explain. "'Don't do nothing so far as anybody knows. Lives like a hermit, stays in the house all the time, and has long whiskers. Don't know whether he's rich or not. But Spec he ain't, because no man with money lives like he does.' He thrust a long forefinger into Mr. Burns' face. And Stingy? He's so stingy he won't let nobody come in the house, scared they'll wear the furniture out looking at it. How long has he lived here? There ain't nobody in this town old enough to say. Why, Mr., I'll bet that old man's a thousand years old. Wait till you see him.' That was all. They went on, as indicated. The very type of man who would scrimp and starve to put all his money in something like diamonds, mused Chief Arkwright, the usual rich old miser who winds up being murdered. They passed the widow-gardener's hoglot and came into a pleasant country road, which, turning, brought them to a shabby little cottage and bowered in trees. Through the foliage, far on, they caught the amber gleam of a languid river, and around their feet, as they entered the yard, scores of pigeons fluttered. Carriers, ejaculated Mr. Burns as if startled. With a strange feeling of elation, the detective led the way up the steps to the veranda and knocked. There was no answer. He glanced at the chief significantly and tried the door. It was locked. Try the back door, directed Chief Arkwright tersely. If that's locked, we'll go in anyway. They passed around the house to the rear, and Mr. Burns laid one hand upon the doorknob. He turned it, and the door swung inward. Again he glanced at Chief Arkwright. The chief knotted and led the way into the house. They stood in a kitchen, clean as to floors and table, but now in the utmost disorder. They spent only a moment here, then passed into the narrow hall, along this to a door that stood open, and then, then Chief Arkwright paused, staring downward and respectfully lifted his hat. Always the same, he remarked endimatically. Mr. Burns thrust himself forward and through the door. On the floor, with white face turned upward, and fixed, staring eyes, lay an old man. His venerable gray hair, long and unkept, fell back from a brow of noble proportions, the wide high brow of the student, and a great snow-white beard rippled down over his breast. Save for the glassiness of the eyes, the face was placid in death, even as it must have been in life. Mutely Mr. Burns examined the body. A blow in the back of the head, that was all. Then he glanced around the room inquiringly. Everything was in order, except. Except here lay an overturned cigar-box. He picked it up. Two uncut diamonds were on the floor beneath it. The rough inert pebbles silently attested to the obvious manner of death, which simultaneously forced itself upon the three men. The cowardly blow of an assassin, a dying struggle, perhaps, for the contents of the box. And this the end. From outside came sharply in the silence the rattle of wheels on the gravel of the road, and a vehicle stopped in front of the door. Sh! Warned the chief. Someone came along the walk, up the steps, and wrapped briskly on the door. The detectives waited motionless. Silent, the knob rattled under impatient fingers, then the footsteps passed along the veranda quickly, and were lost as if someone had stepped off at the end, intending to come to the back door which was open. A moment later they heard steps in the kitchen, then in the narrow hall approaching, and the doorway of the room where they stood framed the figure of a man. It was Mr. Zenke. There's your man-chief," remarked Mr. Burns quietly. The diamond expert permitted his gaze to wander from one to the other of the three men, and then the beady black eyes came to rest on the silent, outstretched figure of the old man. He started forward impulsively. The grip of Detective Sergeant Connolly on his arm stopped him. You're my prisoner. Yes, I understand," said Mr. Zenke impatiently. He didn't even look up. He was still gazing at the figure on the floor. Well, what if you got to say for yourself, demanded Chief Arkwright coldly? Mr. Zenke met the accusing stare of the chief squarely for an instant. Then the keen eyes shifted to the slightly flushed face of Mr. Burns, and lingered there interrogatively. I have nothing whatsoever to say," he replied at last, and he drew one hand slowly across the thin, scarred face. Yes, I understand, he repeated absently. I have nothing to say. CHAPTER XIV Doris looked down in great dry-eyed horror upon the body of this withered old man whom she had loved, and the thin thread of life within her all but snapped. It has come the premonition of disaster has been fulfilled.  He had loved this old man too. Then the shock passed, and he returned anxiously to Doris to receive the limp, inert figure in his arms. She had fainted. Well, what do you know about it? inquired Chief Ark right abruptly. Mr. Wynn was himself again instantly. The calm, self-certain, perfectly poised young man of affairs. He glanced at the chief, then shot a quick, inquiring look at Mr. Zenke. Almost imperceptibly the diamond expert shook his head. Then Mr. Wynn's eyes turned upon Mr. Burns. There had been triumph in the detective's face until that moment. But under the steady, meaning glare, which was directed at him, triumph faded to a sort of wonder, followed by a vague sense of uneasiness, and he read a command in the fixed eyes, a command to silence. Curiously enough it reminded him that he was in the employ of Mr. Latham, and that there were certain business secrets to be protected. He regarded the coroner's physician hastily summoned for a perfunctory examination. Well, demanded the chief again. Nothing of this, replied Mr. Wynn. I think, doctor, and he addressed the physician, that she needs you more than he does. We know only too well what's the matter with him. The physician arose obediently. Mr. Wynn gathered up the slender still figure in his arms, and bore it away to another room. The doctor bent over Doris and tested the fluttering heart. Only shock, he said finally, when he looked up. She'll come round all right in a little while. Thank God! The young man breathed softly. He stooped, impressed, reverent lips to the marble white brow, then straightening up, and after one long lingering look at her, turned quickly and left the room. I have no statement to make, Mr. Zenki was saying, in that level unemotional way of his, when Mr. Wynn re-entered the room where lay the dead. We are to assume that you are guilty, then, demanded chief Arkwright with cold finality. I have nothing to say, replied the expert. His gaze met that of Mr. Wynn for a moment, then settled on the venerable face of the old man. Guilty, interposed Mr. Wynn quickly, guilty of what? Chief Arkwright, without speaking, waved his hand toward the body on the floor. There was a flash of amazement in the young man's face, a sudden bewilderment, the diamond expert's countenance was expressionless.  I have nothing to say, said the expert again. And you don't deny that you were Red Haney's accomplice. I have nothing to say, was the monotonous answer. The chief shrugged his shoulders impatiently, some illuminating thought shone for an instant in Mr. Wynn's clear eyes, and he nodded as if a question in his mind had been answered. Perhaps, chief, there may be some mistake, he protested half-heartedly. Perhaps this gentleman, what motive would? There's motive enough, interrupted the chief briskly. We have this man's description straight from his accomplice Red Haney, even to the scar on his face. He paused abruptly and regarded Mr. Wynn through half-closed lids. By the way, he continued deliberately, who are you? What do you know about it? My name is Wynn, even Cortland Wynn, was the ready response. I am directly interested in this case, through a long-standing friendship for Mr. Kellner here, and through the additional fact that his granddaughter in the adjoining room is soon to become my wife. There was a little pause. I may add that I live in New York, and that Miss Kellner has been stopping there for several days. She has been accustomed to hearing from her grandfather at least once a day by telephone, but she was unable to get an answer either yesterday or today, so she came to my home, and together we came out here. Mr. Burns looked up quickly. It had suddenly occurred to him to wonder as to the whereabouts of Claflin and Sutton, who had been on watch at the 37th Street House. The young man interpreted the expression of his face all right, and favored him with a meaning glance. We came alone, he supplemented. Mr. Burns silently pondered it. All that being true, Chief Arkwright suggested tentatively, perhaps you can give us some information as to the diamonds that were stolen. How much were they worth? How many were there? He held up the uncut stones that had been found on the floor. I don't know their exact number, was the reply. Their value, I should say, was about sixty thousand dollars. But for this little house, and the grounds adjoining, practically all of Mr. Kellner's money was invested in diamonds. Those you have there are part of an accumulation of many years imported in the rough, one or two at a time. Mr. Zenke was gazing abstractedly out of a window, but the expression on his lean face indicated the keenest interest. And—and something else, apprehension maybe. The chief stared straight into the young man's eyes for an instant, and then—and Mr. Kellner's family, he inquired—there is no one except his granddaughter Doris. Some change, sudden as it was pronounced, came over the chief, and his whole attitude altered. He dropped into a chair near the door. Have a seat, Mr. Wynn, he invited courteously, and let's understand this thing clearly. Over there, please, and he indicated a chair, partly facing that in which Mr. Zenke sat. Mr. Wynn sat down.  Well, no, the young man admitted. Mr. Zenke glanced at him quickly, warningly. The chief was not looking, but he knew the glance had passed. And why don't you believe it, he continued. In the first place, Mr. Wynn began without hesitation, the diamonds were worth only about sixty thousand dollars, and Mr. Zenke here draws a salary of twenty-five thousand dollars a year. The proportion is wrong, you see. Again Mr. Zenke is a man of unquestioned integrity. As diamond expert of the Henry Latham Company he handles millions of dollars worth of precious stones each year, and has practically unlimited opportunities for theft, without murder, if he were seeking to steal. He has been with that company for several years, and that fact alone is certainly to his credit. Very good, commented the chief ambiguously. He paused an instant to study this little man with an interest aroused by the sum of his salary. And what of Haney's description, his accusation, he asked. Haney might have lied, you know, retorted Mr. Wynn. Men in his position have been known to lie. I understand, you say, the chief resumed, heedless of the note of irony in the other's voice, that you and Miss Kellner are to be married? Yes. And that she is the only heir of her grandfather? Yes. Therefore, at his death, the diamonds would become her property? For one instant Mr. Wynn seemed startled and turned his clear eyes full upon his interrogator, seeking the hidden meaning. Yes, but he began slowly. That's true, isn't it? Demanded the chief with quick violence. Yes, that's true. Mr. Wynn admitted calmly. Therefore indirectly it would have been to your advantage if Mr. Kellner had died or had been killed. In that the diamonds would have come to my intended wife, yes, was the reply. Mr. Zanky clasped and unclasped his thin hands nervously. His face was again expressionless, and the beady eyes were fastened immovably on chief Arkwright's. Mr. Burns was frankly amazed at this unexpected turn of the affair. Suddenly chief Arkwright brought his hand down on the arm of his chair with a bang. It was for the moment that Red Haney lied, and that Mr. Zanky is not the murderer. Then, as a matter of fact, your salary isn't twenty-five thousand dollars a year, is it? He was on his feet now with blazing eyes and one hand was thrust accusingly into Mr. Wynn's face. It was simulation. Mr. Burns understood it. A police method of exhausting possibilities. There was not the slightest movement by Mr. Wynn to indicate uneasiness at the charge, nor a tremor in his voice when he spoke again. I understand perfectly chief, he remarked coldly. Just what was the time of the crime, may I ask? Answer my question, insisted the chief thunderously. Now look here chief, Mr. Wynn went on frigidly. I am not a child to be frightened into making any absurd statements. I do not draw a salary of twenty-five thousand a year, no. I am in business for myself, and make more than that. You may satisfy yourself by examining the books in my office, if you like. By intimation, at least, you are accusing me of murder. Now answer me a question, please. What was the time of the crime? Chapter 15 The Truth In Part The chief dropped back into his chair with the utmost complacency. This was not the kind of man with whom mere bluster counted. Haney says Saturday morning, he answered, the coroner's physician agrees with that. Yesterday morning, Mr. Wynn mused. Then, after a moment, I think chief, you know Mr. Burns here, and that you would accept a statement of his is correct? Yes, the chief agreed with the glance at Mr. Burns. Mr. Burns, where was I all day Saturday? Mr. Wynn queried, without so much as looking around at him. You were in your house from eleven o'clock Friday night until fifteen minutes of nine o'clock Saturday morning, was the response. You left there at that time and took the surface car at 34th Street to your office. You left your office at five minutes of one, took luncheon alone at the Savarin, and returned to your office at two o'clock. You remained there until five or a few minutes past, then returned home. At eight, you... Is that sufficient? interrupted Mr. Wynn. Does that constitute an alibi? Yes, he admitted, but how do you know all this Burns? Mr. Burns and the men of his agency have favoured me with the almost persistent attentions during the last few days, Mr. Wynn continued promptly. He has had two men constantly on watch at my office day and night, and two others constantly on watch at my home day and night. There are two there now, one in the rear room of the basement, and another in the pantry with the doors locked on the outside. Their names are Claflin and Sutton. So that was it! It came home to Mr. Burns suddenly. Claflin and Sutton had been tricked into the house on some pretext, had locked in. Con found their stupidity. Why are they locked up? demanded the chief, with kindling interest. Why have you been watched? I think perhaps Mr. Burns will agree with me when I say that that has nothing whatever to do with this crime, replied Mr. Wynn easily. That's for me to decide, declared the chief bluntly. There was a long pause. Mr. Zanky was leaning forward in his chair, gripping the arms fiercely, with his lips pressed into a thin line. It was only by a supreme effort that he held himself in control, and the lean, scarred face was working strangely. Well, if you insist on knowing, observed Mr. Wynn, slowly, I suppose I'll have to tell all of it. In the first place—don't! It came finally the one word from Mr. Zanky's half-closed lips, a smothered explosion which drew every eye upon him. Mr. Wynn turned slightly in his chair and regarded the diamond expert with an expression of astonishment on his face. The beady black eyes were all a glitter with the effort of repression, and some intangible message flashed in them. In the first place, resumed Mr. Wynn as if there had been no interruption, Mr. Kellner here— Don't! the expert burst out again desperately—don't! it means ruin! Absolute ruin! Mr. Kellner had those diamonds, about sixty thousand dollars worth of them. Mr. Wynn continued distinctly. Mr. Kellner decided to sell some diamonds. One of the quickest and most satisfactory methods of selling rough gems, such as those you have in your hand-chief, is to offer them directly to the men who deal in them. I went to Mr. Henry Latham, and other jewelers of New York, on behalf of Mr. Kellner, and offered them a quantity of diamonds. It may be that they regarded the quantity I offered as unusual, that I don't know, but I would venture the conjecture that they did. He paused a moment, Mr. Zanky's face again growing expressionless, was turned toward the light of the window. Chief Arkwright was studying it, shrewdly. Diamond merchants, of course, have to be careful. The young man went on smoothly. They can't afford to buy whatever is offered by people whom they don't know. They had reason, too, to believe that I was not acting for myself alone. What was more natural, therefore, than that they should have called in Mr. Burns, and the men of his agency, to find out about me? And, if possible, to find out whom I represented, so they might locate the supply. I wouldn't tell them, because it was not desirable that they should deal directly with Mr. Kellner, who was old and childish and lacking perhaps in appreciation of the real value of diamonds. The result of all this was that the diamond dealers placed me under strict surveillance. My house was watched, my office was watched, my mail going and coming was subjected to scrutiny, my telephone calls were traced, telegrams opened and read. I had anticipated all this, of course, and was in communication with Mr. Kellner here only by carrier pigeons. He glanced, meaningly, at Mr. Burns, who was utterly absorbed in the recital. Those carrier pigeons were not exchanged by express, because the records would have furnished a clue to Mr. Burns' men. I personally took them back and forth in a suitcase before I approached Mr. Latham with the original proposition. He was giving categorical answers to a few of the multitude of questions to which Mr. Burns had been seeking answers. The tense expression about Mr. Zanky's eyes was dissipated, and he sighed a little. I saw the red Haney affair in the newspapers this morning, as you will know. He continued after a moment. It was desirable that I should come out here with Mr. Kellner, but it was not desirable, even under those circumstances, that I should permit myself to be followed. That's how it happens that Mr. Claflin and Mr. Sutton are now locked up in my house. Again there was a pause. Mr. Burns I know will be glad to confirm my statement of the case insofar as his instructions from Mr. Latham and the other gentlemen interested bear on it. Chief Arkwright glanced at the detective inquiringly. That's right, Mr. Burns admitted with an uncertain nod. That is, so far as my instructions go. I understood, though, that the diamonds were worth more than sixty thousand dollars, in fact that there might have been a million dollars worth of diamonds. A million dollars, repeated Chief Arkwright in amazement. A million dollars, he repeated. He turned fiercely upon Mr. Winn. What about that, he demanded. I am sure I don't know what Mr. Burns understood, replied the young man, with marked emphasis. But it's preposterous on the face of it, isn't it, would a man with a million dollars worth of diamonds live in a hovel like this? The Chief considered the matter reflectively for a minute or more, the while his keen eyes alternately searched the faces of Mr. Winn and Mr. Zenke. It would depend on the man, of course, he said at last. Then some new idea was born within him. Your direct connection with the crime seems to be disproved, Mr. Winn, he remarked slowly. And if we admit his innocence, he jerked a thumb at the expert. There remains yet another viewpoint. Do you see it? The young man turned upon him quickly. Is it occurred to you that every argument I advanced to furnish you with a motive for the crime might well be applied with equal weight against Miss Kellner? Doris, flamed Mr. Winn, for the first time his perfect self-possession deserted him, and he came to his feet with gripping hands. Why, why, what are you talking about? Sit down, advised the Chief quietly. Mr. Zenke glanced at them once uneasily, then resumed his fixed stare out of the window. Sit down, said the Chief again. Mr. Winn glared at him for an instant, then dropped back into his chair. His hands were clenched desperately, and a slight flush in his clean cut face showed the fight he was making to restrain himself. All the property this old man owned, including the diamonds, would become her property in the event of his death. Or murder, the Chief added mercilessly. That's true, isn't it? But when she entered this room her every act testified to her innocence, Mr. Winn burst out passionately. The Chief shrugged his shoulders. She has been living in a little hotel in Irving Place, the young man rushed on. The people there can satisfy you as to her whereabouts on Saturday. Then the Chief shrugged his shoulders. And remember, please, that the best answer to all that is that Haney had the diamonds. It doesn't necessarily follow Mr. Winn, said the other steadily, that she committed the crime with her own hands. It comes down simply to this. If there were only sixty thousand dollars' worth of diamonds, then the one motive which Zenke might have had is eliminated because Haney had practically fifty thousand dollars' worth of them, and here are some others. There would have been no share for your expert here. And again, if there were only sixty thousand dollars' worth of the diamonds, you or Miss Kellner would have been the only persons to benefit by his death. But Haney had those, protested Mr. Winn. Just what I'm saying, agreed the other complacently. Or there were more than sixty thousand dollars' worth. However we look at it, whoever may have been Haney's accomplice, that point seems settled. Or else Haney lied, declared Mr. Winn flatly. If Haney came here alone killed this old man and stole the diamonds, there would be none of these questions, would there? Mr. Burns, who had listened silently, arose suddenly and left the room. Mr. Winn's last suggestion awakened a new train of thought in the police official's mind, and he considered it silently for a moment. Finally he shook his head. The fact remains, he said, as if reassuring himself, that Haney described an accomplice and that that description fits Zenke perfectly, that Zenke has refused to defend himself or even make a denial, that he has drawn suspicion upon himself by everything he has done and said since he has been here, even by the strange manner of his appearance at this house. Therefore there were more diamonds and he got his share of them. Hello, came in Mr. Burns' voice from the hall. Give me two one eight four five river, New York. Yes, is Mr. Latham there? Yes, Henry Latham. Then Mr. Winn's self-possession forsook him and he came to his feet, evidently with the intention of interrupting that conversation. He started forward with gritting teeth and simultaneously Chief Arkwright, Detective Sergeant Conley, and Mr. Zenke, laid restraining hands upon him. Something in the expert's grip on his wrist caused him to stop and cease a futile struggle. Then came a singular expression of resignation about the mouth and he sat down again. Hello, this Mr. Latham? This is Detective Burns. I have been able to locate some diamonds, but it's necessary to know something of the quantity of those you mentioned. You remember Mr. Schultz said something about? Yes. Yes. Oh, there were! Unexpected developments? Yes. I'll call and see you to-night about eight. Yes. Good-bye. Mr. Burns re-entered the room, his face aglow with triumph. Mr. Winn glanced almost hopelessly at Mr. Zenke, then turned again to the detective. I should say there were more than sixty thousand dollars worth of them, Mr. Burns blurted. There were at least a million dollars worth. Mr. Schultz intimated as much to me. Now Mr. Latham confirms it. Chief Arkwright turned and glared scowlingly upon the diamond expert. His beady black eyes were alight with some emotion which he failed to read. Where are they, Zenke? demanded the chief harshly. I have nothing to say, replied Mr. Zenke softly. So your disappearance Friday night and your absence all day yesterday did have to do with this old man's death, said the chief directly accusing him. I have nothing to say, murmured Mr. Zenke. That settles it, gentlemen, declared the chief with an air of finality. Zenke, I charge you with the murder of Mr. Kellner here. Anything you may say will be used against you. Come along now. Don't make any trouble. End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Fairly drunk with excitement, his lean face, usually expressionless, now flushed and working strangely, and his beady black eyes aglitter, Mr. Zenke reeled into the study where Mr. Latham and Mr. Schultz sat awaiting Mr. Burns. He raised one hand and, joining silence, closed the door, locked it, and placed the key in his pocket, after which he turned upon Mr. Latham. He makes them, man! He makes them! He burst out between gritted teeth.  He makes them! Mr. Latham astonished in a little startled came to his feet. The flimatic German sat still, staring at the expert without comprehension. Mr. Zenke's thin fist was clinched under his employer's nose, and the jeweler drew back a little vaguely alarmed. I don't understand what, he began. The diamonds Mr. Zenke interrupted, and the long pent-up excitement within him burst into a flame of impatience. The diamonds he makes them! Don't you see? The diamonds! He manufactures them! But in himmel exclaimed Mr. Schultz, and it was anything but an irreverent ejaculation. He arose. The miracle has come to pass. We must have known. We must have known. Millions and millions of dollars' worth of them, even billions for all we know, the expert rushed on in incoherent violence, a sum greater than all the combined wealth of the world in the hands of one man. Think of it! Mr. Latham only gazed at him blankly, and he turned instinctively to the one who understood, Mr. Schultz. Think of the mind that achieved it, man! He collapsed into a chair and sat looking at the floor, his fingers writhing within one another, muttering to himself. Mr. Latham was a cold, sane, unimaginative man of business. As yet the full import of it all hadn't reached him. He stared dumbly first at Mr. Zanke, then at Mr. Schultz. There was not even incredulity in the look. Only faint amazement that two such well-balanced men should have gone mad at once. At last the German importer turned upon him flatly. Why don't you get excited about it, Latham? He demanded. He is all right, not crazy, he added with whimsical assurance. He is telling you that those diamonds are made. Made like doughnuts, manufactured, put together. Don't you get it? He ran off into guttural German expletives. And slowly, slowly the idea began to dawn upon Mr. Latham. The diamonds Mr. Wynn had shown were not real then. They were artificial. It was some sort of swindle. Of course! But the experts had agreed that they were diamonds, real diamonds. Perhaps they had been deceived, or— By George! Did these two men mean to say that they were real diamonds, but that they were manufactured? Mr. Latham's tidy little imagination balked at that. Absurd! Who ever heard of a diamond as big as the Coronor, or the Regent, or the Orloff being made? They were crazy, the pair of them. Do I understand, he demanded in a tone of deliberate annoyance, that you, Zenke, and you, Schultz, expect me to believe that those diamonds we saw were not natural, but were real diamonds turned out by machinery in a—in a diamond factory? Is that what you are driving at? That is, declared the German bluntly. It was coming in time, Latham. It was coming, of course. But I have always noticed that whatever is coming does come. Maid. Maid as you make marbles? Mr. Zenke repeated, monotonously, yes, it had to come, but—but imagine the insupprable difficulties that one brain had to surmount. He passed a thin hand across his flushed brow, and was thoughtfully silent. I don't believe it, asserted Mr. Latham tartly. It's impossible. I don't believe it, and sat down. It don't matter much whether you believe it or not, remarked the German, in a tone of resignation. If it is, it is. And all those diamonds in your place and mine are not worth much more than a bushel of potatoes. Mr. Latham turned away from him, half angrily, and glared at the expert who was still regarding the floor. What do you know about this, anyway, Zenke? he demanded. How do you know he makes them? Have you seen him make them? Thus directly addressed Mr. Zenke looked up, and the living flame of wonder within his eyes flickered and died. In silence for a minute or more he studied the unconcealed skepticism in his employer's face, and then asked slowly, Do you know what diamonds are, Mr. Latham? There is some theory that they are pure carbon crystallized. They are that, declared the expert impatiently. Do you know that diamonds have been made? Oh, I read something about it, yes, but what I—every schoolboy knows how to make a diamond, Mr. Latham, if pure carbon is heated to approximately five thousand degrees Fahrenheit, and simultaneously subjected to a pressure of approximately six thousand tons to the square inch, it becomes a diamond. And there's no theory about that. That's a fact. The difficulty has always been to apply the knowledge we have in a commercially practicable way—in other words, to isolate a carbon that is absolutely pure, and invent a method of applying the heat and pressure simultaneously. It has been done, Mr. Latham. It has been done. Don't you understand what it means to—with an effort he repressed the returning excitement which found vent in a rising voice and quick nervous gestures of the hands, after a moment he went on. Half a score of scientists have made diamonds, minute particles no larger than one point of a pin. Professor Henry Moisson of Paris went further, and by use of an electric furnace produced diamonds as large as a pin had. You may remember that when I first met Mr. Wynn, he inquired if I had not done some special work for Professor Moisson. I had. I tested the diamonds he made. And they were diamonds. I dare say the suggestion Mr. Wynn conveyed to me by that question, that is, the suggestion of manufactured diamonds, had been carefully planned, for he is a wonderful young man, Mr. Wynn, a wonderful young man, he paused a moment. We know that he had millions and millions of dollars worth of them. We know because we saw them. And who can tell how many billions more there are? The one man holds in his hand the power to overturn the money values of the earth. But how do you know he makes them? Demanded Mr. Latham returning to the main question. He suggested it by his question, Mr. Zenke went on. That suggestion lingered in my mind. When the detective Mr. Burns reported that Mr. Wynn was an importer of brown sugar, I was on the point of advancing a theory that the diamonds were manufactured. As of all known substances, burnt brown sugar is richest in carbon. But you, Mr. Latham, had discredited a previous suggestion of mine, and I—well, I didn't suggest it. Instead, that night I personally began an investigation to see what disposition was made of the sugar. I found that the ships discharged their cargoes in Hoboken, that the sugar was there loaded on barges, and those barges hauled up a small stream to a little town of Coaldale, all consigned to a Mr. Hugo Kellner. It took Friday, all day Saturday, and a great part of today to learn all this. This afternoon I went to see Kellner. I found him murdered. He stated it merely as an inconvenient incident. In the room with the body were Mr. Burns' chief arch-right of the New York police, and another New York detective. I had glanced at the story of Red Haney and the diamonds in the morning paper, and from Mr. Burns' presence I surmised something of the truth. I was instantly placed under arrest for the murder. The murder of this man I had never seen, the real Diamond Master, the man who achieved it all. He was silent for a moment as if from infinite weariness. Mr. Winn came, and Miss Kellner, granddaughter of the dead man. He saw me, and understood. Between us we contrived that I should be taken away as the murderer, and so to prevent an immediate search of the house. I made no denial. I permitted myself to be taken. Some mistake as to identity. I proved an alibi by the shipping men in Hoboken. The diamonds are there, untold millions of dollars worth of them. The Diamond Master is dead. Mr. Latham had been listening, as if dazed, to the hurried, somewhat disconnected narrative. Mr. Schultz keener to comprehend all that the story meant was silent for a moment. Then if all those men know all he told us, Latham, he remarked finally, our diamonds are not worth any more than potatoes already. But they don't know, Mr. Zenke burst out fiercely.   You must have seen the newspaper account of it today. The New York police traced Haney's course to Coaldale and to that house. All they know is that sixty thousand dollars worth of uncut stones were stolen. There was not even a suggestion to them of the millions and millions of dollars worth that were manufactured.  I permitted myself to be accused and arrested, knowing I could establish an alibi, in order to lead them away from there and gain time, at least, to give Mr. Wynn an opportunity of hiding the other diamonds, if they were there. He understood what I was trying to do and fell in with the plan. He knew that I knew the diamonds were made. Mr. Burns doesn't know. No one knows but you and me and Mr. Wynn and perhaps the girl. But don't you see, if you don't accept the proposition he made, the diamond market of the world is ruined. You are ruined. But how do you know they are made? insisted Mr. Latham doggedly. You've never seen them made, have you? Latham. Mine got, Latham. How do you know when you have a boil on the back of your neck? You can't see it, Mr. Schultz turned to Mr. Zenke. The three of us will go and see Mr. Wynn. It is a miracle. It is, and it don't do any good to say it ain't. CHAPTER XII A cube of solid polished steel, some twenty feet square, set on a spreading base of concrete, and divided perpendicularly down the middle into titanic halves. Those being snugly fit one to the other by a series of triangular corrugations, a variation of the familiar tongue and groove. Interlacing the ponderous mass, from corner to corner, were huge steel bolts, and the hulking heads of more bolts, some forty on each of the four sides, showed that the hole might be split into halves at will, and readily made hole again, one enormous side sliding back and forth on a short track. In the two undivided faces of the cube, relatively squaring the center, were four borings, somewhat smaller in diameter than an ordinary pencil, and extending through, and directly in the center was focused a network of insulated wires which dropped down out of the gloom overhead. In the other two sides of the great cube, just where the dividing lines of the halves came, were the funnel-like mouths of a two-inch boring, this too extended straight through. Directly opposite each of the two mouths, a dozen feet away, was mounted a peculiarly heavy gun of the naval type. In a general sort of way these were not unlike twelve-inch ordnance, but the breach was much larger in proportion, the barrel longer, and the bore only two instead of twelve inches. The mountings were high, and the adjustment so delicate, that looking into the open breach of one gun, the bore through the twenty-foot cube, and through the barrel of the gun on the other side, seemed to be continuous. This is the diamond-making machine gentleman, said Mr. Wynn, and he indicated to Mr. Latham, Mr. Schultz, and Mr. Zenke, the cube and the two guns. It is perfectly simple in construction, has enormous powers of resistance, as you may guess, and is as delicately fitted as a watch, being regulated by electric power. This cube is the solution of the high-pressure, high-temperature problem, which was only one of the many seemingly insupperable obstacles to be overcome. When the bolts are withdrawn, one-half slides back. When the bolts are in position, it is as solid as if it were one piece, and perfectly able to withstand a force greater than the ingenuity of man has ever before been able to contrive. This force is a combination of a heat one-half that of the sun on its surface, and a head-on impact of two one-hundred-pound projectiles fired less than forty feet apart, with an enormous charge of cordite, and possessing an initial velocity greater than was ever recorded in gunnery. This vast force centers in the sort of furnace in the middle of the cube. The furnace is round, about three feet long, and three feet in diameter, built of half a dozen fire-resisting substances and layers, perforated for electric wires, with an opening through it lengthwise of the exact size and borings in the gun and in the cube. It fits snugly into a receptacle cut out for it in the center of the cube, and is intended to protect the steel of the cube proper from the intense heat. This heat reaches the furnace by electric wires which enter the cube from the sides, as you see, being brought here by a conduit along the river bed from a large power plant five miles away. Twenty-eight large wires are necessary to bring it. I own the power plant, ostensibly for the operation of a small sugary finery. I may add that the furnace is a variation of the principle employed by Mr. Moisson in Paris, he turned to Mr. Zenki. You may remember having heard me mention him? I remember the expert acquiesced grimly. Now, pure carbon is vaporized, as you perhaps know, at a fraction less than five thousand degrees Fahrenheit, Mr. Wynn continued. A carbon not merely chemically pure, but absolutely pure, in highly compressed discs, is packed in the furnace. The furnace placed within the cube, the ends of the two-inch opening in the furnace being blocked to prevent expansion, the cube is closed, the bolts fastened, and heat applied for several minutes. A heat, gentlemen, of five thousand two hundred and eighty degrees Fahrenheit. The heat of the sun is only about ten thousand degrees. And then the pressure of about seven thousand tons to the square inch is added by means of the two guns. In other words, gentlemen, pure carbon, vaporized, is caught between two projectiles which enter the cube simultaneously from opposite sides, being fired by electricity. The impact is so terrific, that what had been two feet of compressed carbon is instantly condensed into an irregular disc, one inch or an inch and a half thick. And that disc, gentlemen, is a diamond. The violence of the operation, coupled with the intense heat, fuses everything. This projectiles electric wires, fire-brick, even asbestos, into a single mass. The cube is opened, and this mass, white-hot, is dropped into cold water. This increases the pressure until the mass is cool. Then it is broken away, and in the center is a diamond, and as big as a biscuit, gentlemen. More small bores lead from the two-inch bore through the cube and permit the escape of air as the projectiles enter. There is no rebound because the elastic quality of the carbon is crushed out of existence, driven, I might say, into the diamond itself. Of course the furnace, the two projectiles, and the connecting electric wires are all destroyed at each charge, which brings the total cost of the operation to a little more than eight hundred dollars, including nearly three tons of brown sugar. The diamond resulting is worth at least a million when broken up for cutting, sometimes even two millions. That is all, I think. There was a long, odd silence. Mr. Latham, leading against the giant cube, stared thoughtfully at his toes. Mr. Schultz was peering curiously about him, fence off into the gloom. Mr. Zenke still had a question. I understand that all the diamonds were made in that disk-like shape, he remarked at last. Then the uncut stones that were stolen were... They were natural stones, interrupted Mr. Wynn, imported for purposes of study and experiment. I told Chief Arkwright the truth, but not all of it. In the last twenty years Mr. Kellner had destroyed some twenty thousand dollars worth of diamonds in this way. I may add that while Mr. Kellner had succeeded in making diamonds of large size, he had never made a perfect one until eight years ago. But meanwhile the expenses of the work, as you will understand, were enormous. So during the past eight years about a million dollars worth of diamonds have been sold, one or two at a time, to meet this expense. He paused a moment, then resumed musingly. All this, you understand, is not the work of a day Mr. Kellner was nearly eighty-one years old, and it was fifty-eight years ago that he began work here. The cubes there were made and placed in position thirty years ago. The guns have been there for twenty-eight years. So long, in fact, that recollection of them has passed from the minds of men who made them, and until four years ago he was assisted by his son, Mr. Kellner's father, and brother. There was some explosion in this chamber where we stand which killed them both, and since then he has worked alone. His son, Miss Kellner's father, was the inventor of the machine which has enabled us to cut all the stones I showed you. I mailed the application for patent on this machine to Washington three days ago. It is as intricate as a lino-type, and as delicate as a chronometer, but it does the work of fifty expert hand-cutters. Until patent papers are granted I must ask that I be allowed to protect that. Mr. Latham turned upon him quickly. But you've explained all this to us fully, he exclaimed sharply, indicating the cube and the guns. We could duplicate that if we liked.  That brain was Mr. Kellner's, the secret died with him. Even there was a long silence broken at last by Mr. Schultz. That means no more diamonds can be made until someone else can make the pure carbon. Yeah, and that brings us down to the question, how many diamonds are made already. The diamonds I showed you, gentlemen, were all that have been cut thus far, replied Mr. Wynn. Less than twenty of the discs were used in making them. There are now some five hundred more of these discs in existence, roughly a billion dollars worth. So you see, I am prepared to hold you to my proposition that you buy one hundred million dollars worth of them at one half the carat price you now pay in the open market. Mr. Latham passed one hand across a brow, bedewed with perspiration, and stared helplessly at the German. The work of cutting could go on steadily here under the direction of Mr. Zenke, Mr. Wynn resumed after a moment. The secrecy of this place has not been violated for forty years. We are now one hundred and seventy feet below ground level in a gallery of the abandoned coal mine which gave Coaldale its name reached underground from the cellar in the cottage. Walls and walls of the entire place are short up to ensure safety, and heavy felts make this chamber soundproof, smothering even the detonation of the guns. Mr. Zenke is the man to do the work. Mr. Kellner, for ten years, held him to be the first expert in the world, and it would be carrying out his wishes if Mr. Zenke would agree. If he does not, I shall undertake it and flood the market.  The secret is now more yours than mine. It destroys you if it becomes known, not me. The New York police have turned this end of the investigation over to the local police, and they are fools. All the forms have been complied with, so this place is safe.  When the day the last diamond is delivered to you and the payment of one hundred million dollars is completed, everything here will be destroyed. That's all. One hundred million dollars, repeated Mr. Latham. Even if we accept the proposition, Schultz, how can we raise that enormous sum within a year and preserve the secret? It isn't a question of can, Latham. It's a question of must, was the reply. He thoughtfully regarded Mr. Wynn. It's only Sunday night, and we have until Thursday to answer, remember? He turned to Mr. Latham with a recurrence of whimsical philosophy.  Mind got man, think of it. The jewelers accepted Mr. Wynn's proposition. Mr. Wynn bowed his thanks and handed Mr. Zenke a scientific periodical opened at a page which bore a headline, Newly Discovered, Property of Radium. Diamonds, rubies, emeralds and sapphires changed in color by exposure of one month to radium. For the fourth time Red Haney underwent the third degree. It culminated in a full confession of the murder of Mr. Kellner. There had been no accomplice. Yes, see, chief, he explained apologetically, you and that other guy, meaning Mr. Burns, was so dead set on saying there was somebody else in it and was so ready with your descriptions that it looked good to me, and I said, sure, but I done it. End of Chapter 17 End of the Diamond Master by Jacques Futrell Read for You by Dawn Larson in Minnesota


As the 2023 general election draws closer, concerns have been raised on the issues surrounding voter education, voter apathy and the fact that electorate are not being carried along on electoral processes. Our correspondent Jacinta Obiku takes a look at the issues. Voter education has become necessary to ensure electorates are aware of their rights, the political system, civic responsibility and their interests. On the street of Lagos, a large percentage of respondents know little or nothing about how to get their permanent voter's card.  I don't know how to get my voter's card but I'll find a way to get it. Actually I don't know much about the online registration. The only process I know is just to go to the nearest local government. Me that I'm talking, I haven't actually got some money but it's something that I have plans of getting so I don't really know, not even on the details on how to get it. I stay at Ikorodu and also that there is no vacancy in Ikorodu. I should go to Yaba. That is the frustrating part of it. But in the first place. A political analyst, Godwin Etakubibu, is not blaming the electorate for not participating in the country's electoral process. He believes a majority of Nigerians feel betrayed by the performances of the elected and as a result keep away from the polls. You don't blame the people so much. One, poverty has reduced people's knowledge to nothing. You're talking of online registration which made it easier. But in the first place, how many of them have light to power the laptop that they will use to do the registration online? How many of them are really technologically compliant? Even though it is INEC's statutory duty to conduct voter and civic education and promote the knowledge of a sound democratic process, Etakubibu believes that INEC can only try but cannot do all. So INEC will be trying, we shall be trying, the governments will be trying, the political parties will be making an effort. But to say that oh only INEC, no. And let's keep telling the people that failure to participate by use of your PVC permanent voter card, serve yourself vicariously liable for whoever that imagine. I want to appeal to Nigerians that the commission spends money, the country spends money to print these permanent voter cards and when we spend money to print them and we spend money in terms of paying registration officers to go for the purposes of distributing some of these permanent voter cards and people do not come to collect. It doesn't pay well of us as a people and as a country. So I think that we must realize the power in the PVC and make sure that we collect our permanent voter cards if we have taken the pains to carry out registration. As Nigeria moves towards the 2023 general elections, the commission and other stakeholders need to rekindle and restore the confidence of Nigerians in the electoral process. Jasinta Obuco, Clause 7 News.


I reconciled the issue of race relatively early on. It became an issue before we joined the church. It wasn't a big issue. We just had heard about it, but it wasn't something that we focused on as a family. We were more struck by what we felt in our hearts when we heard the gospel, by the friendliness of the members. And those two things combined helped us to gain testimonies of the gospel, each of us individually. I came to see myself, not as a black Mormon, but as a disciple of Christ who is black. And there's a difference in that order. We need to identify ourselves in that order as well. So I identify myself, and everyone should identify himself or herself first as a child of God, as a disciple of Christ, and secondly, according to the categories of men. We can see each other not as the world sees us in boxes and categories, but as God sees us. There's a scripture where the Lord says that we come to see as we are seen and know as we are known. And I think through the atonement of Jesus Christ, our hearts and our eyes are transformed such that we can see each other in a godly way. I think all the answers to all the questions and all the challenges that we face in the church start and end with the author and finisher of our faith who is the Lord Jesus Christ. And so when we go back to Him and focus our answers and our yearnings, our longings around Christ and His salvation through Him, His atonement, then I think we can see more clearly to understand the perspective and the context, the eternal context of things. And I think then that makes us more patient, more loving, more understanding, more humble.


Here at the green total classic powered by SFM sports net Glenn Clark now joined after a 7-4 victory by Stevenson lacrosse coach Paul Cantabene coach just a weird night and when you look at the stats You sort of say boy This is how does it all add up and to me the story really was the defense and the play of your goal Econor scheme. Yeah, I think the defense did a great job staying tight We knew their strengths and I thought we just played really disciplined at times and you know Kareena such a talented team, you know, they can score from anywhere You know if I saw we made things tough on them and they kind of miss some kind of miss some easy ones Which helped us a lot But you know Connor played really big in the goal made some nice saves and I think they got it Maybe a little bit rattled doing that, but they're a good team and you know, they'll bounce back I'm sure tomorrow really well and but we're happy with what we did and you know, we got to move on Yeah, coach, and that's the difficult part in this tournament, right? You don't get a whole lot of time You don't you get another and you get another really good team and get back onto the field tomorrow Yeah, you know, I was gonna have to play more guys tomorrow and you know Adapt a little bit we got to make sure we're going and see how we're gonna get out I think both all the games would be a little sloppy tomorrow Good the quick turn around yeah But um, you know, we got to be ready to go and it's another great opportunity to play another good team This was a team that was one in three and had to go on the road and you know from the outside Maybe people had some thoughts and some opinions, but you always seem like hey look this is gonna be all takes is one win Just yeah, you know, I mean, I think we know we played well against you know Cortland who's ranked 12th last week and you know, I thought we did a good job and then this week You know playing the top five team again You know, I thought we did a really good job just doing our thing grinding it out and just staying steady And that's an important thing, you know, and but they're you know, again, they're a good team They'll bounce back. They have a lot of big games left and they'll be just I think they'll be fine down the road I guess my thought is how much do you feel as though your team grew from what they experienced? I think we grew because of the you know, how tough we're playing in the mental toughness that we're playing with now I think that's really great. I think that's what we got to continue And we weren't playing that the first four games of the year. No doubt about that coach Paul can't the bene Good luck tomorrow night against Dickinson. We'll look forward to seeing you then from wrapping up day one of the green total classic I'm Glenn Clark for sfm sports net


Where are the real minds of change happening in today's culture? Well, I mean, I think the easiest place to see it is a place like Silicon Valley where you have people devoted to making something great and making something new and challenging the way things are done. I think you see it in other places, but that's certainly, I think, the most obvious example of that sort of attitude and approach towards life. And notice it's also one of the most free parts of the economy, one of the least controlled by government. And that's not an accident, in my view. And I don't think it would have been in her view. Yeah, and I think one of the other areas today, I mean, part of it is an interesting question in that in that the kinds of innovations, the kinds of things that are going to break through like that, we don't we don't necessarily see. But if you look past like, I mean, the sort of internet revolution, one of the really, really interesting things about that is to me, as you said, yeah, some of these people are kind of coming from the outside. They're not within the mainstream because, well, they're probably bucking the trend. I mean, they're coming along and they're doing something different. What's really, really interesting about that space in the economy that it is free. It's very, very innovative. It's very, very fast paced. What that means is, in a way, the funnel of talent is actually getting much, much bigger, right? Before the funnel of talent was controlled by the elite universities, the top, you know, the fortune, the top fortune companies. It was a very clear hierarchy, a path of if you want to be successful, here are the, you know, 20 different things that are available to you. Now, if you want to be successful, there's an entire world out there for you to do it. And the means, I mean, basically the guys who took the internet, which was a government project that really had no economic value and massively translated it into something that people could actually use.  Like, what's this internet thing? You know, when it first came out, people thought, people thought, yeah, yeah, yeah, we're not going to do it, right? People thought, you know, what's the usefulness of this? Like, you know, I mean, I get email and whatnot, but what's the useful? And people couldn't, I mean, in the mid 90s, people couldn't even imagine the kinds of value that had been created by basically these tools, not just the infrastructure itself, but the actual ways of communicating. You know, Twitter, Facebook, any of these things, the idea of big data that Google kind of innovated, you know, just take, take tons of data and find great computer algorithms to go search through it and find information that people are applying to all kinds of other things. All this kind of stuff, that innovation, that funnel, as it were, the talent pool can come up from a much, much broader area. You know, you get 15 year old kids writing apps and making millions of dollars. You get people coming out of, you know, people coming out of areas that you don't expect and saying, hey, I've got a better way of doing this.  But now there's a lot more venture capital. There's a lot more, there's really just a lot more dynamism in, in the creative side of the economy where I think that's where you're going to see the talent coming from.  I'm going to do the things I want to do. I'm going to, I'm going to live for myself and be the best person I can be and be productive and be happy. And here's where I can do it. You know, notice it applies also in the realm of ideas.  And so, you know, at this conference, for instance, you had people coming at a high intensity exercise, for example, you'd have to get those ideas out there. You basically have to find a major publisher willing to, you know, give you a deal. But where's the market for the fact is everybody can get ideas out there now. And the challenges you just have to make your ideas much more appealing and work a lot harder to build an audience rather than find your way through a handful of gatekeepers the way that you did say 30 years. Man, I'll tell you this, like just even having this conversation because it's so stimulating and like really cool thing. It reminds me of when I was a kid, you know, I was growing up in Orange County and listening to NPR and thinking that that was, you know, but it was so stimulating. It was like, man, there's like all these great interviews, but I didn't realize how filtered that was, you know, and how like one sided and then moving around and traveling. You're like, whoa, the world is saying a completely different thing. I remember I interviewed these guys that, oh, it was such a horrible, horrible thing to say, but I was talking to these homeless guys.   It's like, do you realize what you're saying? Do you realize what that means? And he just broke it down. He's like, dude, I have religion. I have these things because that's what I believe it. Yeah.  Yeah.   I mean, just the space in which people can can create and innovate in intellectual areas, I mean, whether it's book publishing or podcasts or, I mean, I don't know, hundreds of different ways that people are communicating ideas that that's, I mean, to me, that is that's opened up a space and it's still, you know, it's still sort of in itself out. I mean, people are still figuring out right now. I think the big change that I see is now that content creation is is basically limitless. I mean, people people now have very, very low cost if cost at all for content creation. The big question is who's going to come in and innovate in a way that actually sort of stabilizes that and senses and makes it such that people can search it, can get what they want. The sort of content is out there. The Google of information. Yeah, Darden yesterday was talking about how many ebooks are published every day. But but how do you search those? How do you, you know, Amazon hasn't yet figured it out, Google hasn't figured it out, but people are working on that problem. I know that. I mean, I don't know the people. I don't know what company they're with and maybe some kid in a dorm room. I don't know. But somebody's going to figure out how do I actually target this information, get the people that want it, figure out a way of actually in a sense, it's what happens in markets a lot. How do you rationalize the market in a way that that actually takes this sort of bubbling up of, in this case, information and actually gets into the people that want it? Same thing happened in, let's say, the oil industry in the late 19th century. You know, Rockefeller was a great integrator of all these different production systems, all these different distribution systems. And he said, look, oil is an enormously valuable product. Everybody's going to want it if they could just get it. But there's like a thousand producers, a thousand refiners. They're scattered all over Ohio and Pennsylvania. How do I actually figure out the ways of making this system work? And he comes along and he figures out the innovations and his engineers figure out the innovations. And suddenly he's he's basically giving oil throughout the world.  You know, in the space of about 10, 15, 20 years, he's come along from like what is basically just a kind of random market to transforming the whole energy industry. And that same thing is happening now. I don't think it's happened yet because I still see a lot of churn in that kind of marketplace, you know, are sort of published on demand or ebooks or like what's actually going to sort out as the way to get content out there. But it's so the pipeline is just so much bigger.  I mean, now it's like 100 books an hour, you know, or whatever it is. I mean, it's probably even more than that, you know, just the kind of content creation stuff. And you think about all those lost opportunities. I mean, that's what I always think about. It's the things that you don't see, right? I mean, a great example of this, I always think about when people talk about the productivity of an economy and if the economy is is regulated, controlled, or I mean, even take the 19th century, you know, South, right? Slave labor, you know, slave labor adds certain input to the economy. But you think about all of the ideas, all of the kinds of creativity that that slaves could have come up with, but that was prohibited to them by law. You think today, the gatekeepers, right, you know, which some are enforced by law, some are just, you know, informal institutions, but all of the stuff, all of the novels that were written that just sat on somebody's bookshelf because nobody wanted to publish it. Well, I ran to the fountain. Yeah, I was rejected by like 12 publishers. Yeah, yeah.  Yeah, yeah, no doubt. But I mean, but obviously tapping into something that was incredibly desired by 13 year old girls, I guess. But the idea is that in 20 years ago, that would have never worked for her, right?  And now it's not that it's not that really, really tight gatekeepers. It's now people who are willing to take risks.


is TFNN, The Tiger, Financial News Network. News Update. Good morning, everyone. Basel Chapman here at 10 o'clock. This is the Tiger Financial News Network, Market Update. On the 26th of March, Tuesday, we're looking at the Dow up 12. At 39,328. Yes, there's been a pullback. Everything about this looks like it's made a peak F. I'll talk about that in the show coming up. But at 39,889, we are quite a few hundred points, 500 points below that. At 39,320, looking at the S&P, and the S&P has slightly different chart formation. It's holding really tightly after three days, having made an all-time high last week at 5261.10. It is up 15 at 5233. The QQQ, slightly different chart formation, but still holding very well. Up 231 at 447.10. IWM, the Russell 2000. Up $1.09 at 206.34. Holding quite well. Gold had a big spike up, but that was the future rollover. It's up 31 at 2,207.5. It hasn't taken out the peak C high that was made four sessions ago. But doing very well, I think that the dollar was pulling back when I last looked at it. X, Y. Yes, the dollar is down a little bit, down 10 ticks, a 1 or 4.13. Still, the technicals are pretty darn good. It's interesting, isn't it? That gold is doing well, and so is the dollar. Let's go to bonds. US bonds down 130. No, it's up 130. Oh, unchanged. At 119.11, 30 seconds. Ah, those yields are still in the upper range. This took a crude oil, because if you get the yields going to a higher range and the crude oil breaking out, it hasn't really said 81.94 unchanged at 81.94. We're looking at, if it starts to train at 83.70 to 84.20, that is really a different spectrum to what we've seen with crude oil up until now, because it starts to get into areas that it hasn't been in for almost a year. Looking at about six months, seven months, and we're looking at the high grade copper. I wanted you to show you high grade copper. It's pulling back just a little bit here. It has done quite nicely. Have I forgotten anything? No, I've done everything. I'll do more in the Tiger technicians hour coming up and check out my opening call daily news at it. See you in a few minutes. Very important to speak to you, God, as always. See you in a few minutes.


The rest of this article is from a human, me. I have used and will continue to use AI tools, even chat GPT, as a tool rather than a replacement. Every day, I am bombarded by new AI content and video creator tools, all promising to help me create oodles of videos quickly that will make me lots of money. It's not reasonable to expect anyone to be able to purchase every available tool, so we must do our own research and invest in the ones we find most valuable. Let's address each point made by chat GPT with actual human experience. Creativity and artistry. I concur with chat GPT's point that animated video content often requires a high degree of creativity and artistry. How can an AI tool know what type of video content you want to create? Does it automatically know that you want to use humor to attract your target audience? Yes, you can include the use of humor in your AI prompt. However, what if its definition of humor is different from yours? For example, I like to use images and video clips of animals, cute babies, or funny expressions. There are subtle nuances and intuitive decisions that only humans can offer. Emotional connection. The best way I can explain the inability of AI to connect emotionally is to explain how my wonderful 92-year-old mother reacts to automated messages on the phone. As we have all experienced when trying to get a human on the phone for any reason, we must first get through the automated first-line phone response. Whether we are trying to question a credit card charge or an e-commerce site, the process is the same. Mom tries to explain her question or situation emotionally, such as, I am 92 years old and I need someone to help me. Why don't you understand what I am saying? Is there any need to discuss further? No offense to my mother. Technology is difficult to get used to at any age. Customization and adaptation. Even when using AI technology, it is necessary to evaluate the video result carefully. You want to make sure the video content matches the needs and intentions of the brand or business. Collaboration and communication. How can AI effectively brainstorm, exchange ideas, and work together with others? Quality control I can tell you from personal experience that even an awesome AI video content generator will require some tweaking. Depending upon the quality and precision of the prompts you provide, the amount of manual refinement and editing will vary from starting all over again to minor adjustments. Ethical and cultural considerations biased, inappropriate, or discriminatory content is a serious concern in AI content creation. So, what's the right answer? The bottom line is AI technology isn't going to go away or become less prominent. Rather than pretending it doesn't exist, which would be foolish, content marketers need to learn to work with AI technology. Take advantage of the benefits of AI and use it as a tool to enhance your content creation while maintaining executive control over the final product. Which AI tools do I use? Trying to keep up with the latest and greatest AI tools is a never-ending job. I continuously evaluate as many new tools as I can and take them for a test drive. As mentioned above, we can't possibly own all the tools out there unless our bank account is a bottomless pit. So, which ones am I currently using? See the banner ads throughout this post. Yes, they are affiliate links. Other AI and video creation tools I use include Lumen 5, Canva, and Clipchamp.