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“This is–this is rather a fine stone.”

Pugh nudged my arm.

“I told you so.” I paid no attention to Pugh. “What will you give me for it?”

“Do you mean, what will I give you for it cash down upon the nail?”

“Just so–what will you give me for it cash down upon the nail?”

The man turned the crystal over and over in his fingers. “Well, that’s rather a large order. We don’t often get a chance of buying such a stone as this across the counter. What do you say to–well– to ten thousand pounds?”

Ten thousand pounds! It was beyond my wildest imaginings. Pugh gasped. He lurched against the counter.

“Ten thousand pounds!” he echoed.

The man on the other side glanced at him, I thought, a little curiously.

“If you can give me references, or satisfy me in any way as to your bona fides, I am prepared to give you for this diamond an open check for ten thousand pounds, or if you prefer it, the cash instead.”

I stared; I was not accustomed to see business transacted on quite such lines as those.

“We’ll take it,” murmured Pugh; I believe he was too much overcome by his feelings to do more than murmur. I interposed.

“My dear sir, you will excuse my saying that you arrive very rapidly at your conclusions. In the first place, how can you make sure that it is a diamond?”

The man behind the counter smiled.

“I should be very ill-fitted for the position which I hold if I could not tell a diamond directly I get a sight of it, especially such a stone as this.”

“But have you no tests you can apply?”

“We have tests which we apply in cases in which doubt exists, but in this case there is no doubt whatever. I am as sure that this is a diamond as I am sure that it is air I breathe. However, here is a test.”

There was a wheel close by the speaker. It was worked by a treadle. It was more like a superior sort of traveling-tinker’s grindstone than anything else. The man behind the counter put his foot upon the treadle. The wheel began to revolve. He brought the crystal into contact with the swiftly revolving wheel. There was a s–s–sh! And, in an instant, his hand was empty; the crystal had vanished into air.

“Good heavens!” he gasped. I never saw such a look of amazement on a human countenance before. “It’s splintered!”

POSTSCRIPT

It WAS a diamond, although it HAD splintered. In that fact lay the point of the joke. The man behind the counter had not been wrong; examination of such dust as could be collected proved that fact beyond a doubt. It was declared by experts that the diamond, at some period of its history, had been subjected to intense and continuing heat. The result had been to make it as brittle as glass.

There could be no doubt that its original owner had been an expert too. He knew where he got it from, and he probably knew what it had endured. He was aware that, from a mercantile point of view, it was worthless; it could never have been cut. So, having a turn for humor of a peculiar kind, he had devoted days, and weeks, and possibly months, to the construction of that puzzle. He had placed the diamond inside, and he had enjoyed, in anticipation and in imagination, the Alnaschar visions of the lucky finder.

Pugh blamed me for the catastrophe. He said, and still says, that if I had not, in a measure, and quite gratuitously, insisted on a test, the man behind the counter would have been satisfied with the evidence of his organs of vision, and we should have been richer by ten thousand pounds. But I satisfy my conscience with the reflection that what I did at any rate was honest, though, at the same time, I am perfectly well aware that such a reflection gives Pugh no sort of satisfaction.

-The End-
The Puzzle, a short story by Anonymous (unknown author)