THE DIAMOND AS BIG AS THE RITZ, a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald

 

JOHN T. UNGER came from a family that had been well known in

Hades a small town on the Mississippi River for several genera-

tions. John's father had held the amateur golf championship through

many a heated contest; Mrs. Unger was known "from hot-box to

hot-bed," as the local phrase went, for her political addresses ; and

young John T. Unger, who had just turned sixteen, had danced all

the latest dances from New York before he put on long trousers.

And now, for a certain time, he was to be away from home. That

respect for a New England education which is the bane of all provin-

cial places, which drains them yearly of their most promising young

men, had seized upon his parents. Nothing would suit them but that

he should go to St. Midas' School near Boston Hades was too small

to hold their darling and gifted son.

Now in Hades as you know if you ever have been there the

names of the more fashionable preparatory schools and colleges mean

very little. The inhabitants have been so long out of the world that,

though they make a show of keeping up to date in dress and manners

and literature, they depend to a great extent on hearsay, and a func-

tion that in Hades would be considered elaborate would doubtless be

hailed by a Chicago beef-princess as "perhaps a little tacky."

John T. Unger was on the eve of departure. Mrs. Unger, with

maternal fatuity, packed his trunks full of linen suits and electric

fans, and Mr. Unger presented his son with an asbestos pocket-book

stuffed with money.

"Remember, you are always welcome here," he said. "You can be

sure, boy, that we'll keep the home fires burning."

"I know," answered John huskily.

"Don't forget who you are and where you come from," continued

his father proudly, "and you can do nothing to harm you. You are an

Unger from Hades."

So the old man and the young shook hands and John walked away

with tears streaming from his eyes. Ten minutes later he had passed

outside the city limits, and he stopped to glance back for the last

time. Over the gates the old-fashioned Victorian motto seemed

strangely attractive to him. His father had tried time and time again

to have it changed to something with a little more push and verve

about it, such as "Hades Your Opportunity," or else a plain "Wel-

come" sign set over a hearty handshake pricked out in electric lights.

The old motto was a little depressing, Mr. linger had thought

but now. . . .

So John took his look and then set his face resolutely toward his

destination. And, as he turned away, the lights of Hades against the

sky seemed full of a warm and passionate beauty.

St. Midas' School is half an hour from Boston in a Rolls-Pierce

motor-car. The actual distance will never be known, for no one,

except John T. linger, had ever arrived there save in a Rolls-Pierce

and probably no one ever will again. St. Midas 7 is the most expen-

sive and the most exclusive boys' preparatory school in the world.

John's first two years there passed pleasantly. The fathers of all

the boys were money-kings and John spent his summers visiting at

fashionable resorts. While he was very fond of all the boys he visited,

their fathers struck him as being much of a piece, and in his boyish

way he often wondered at their exceeding sameness. When he told

them where his home was they would ask jovially, "Pretty hot down

there?" and John would muster a faint smile and answer, "It cer-

tainly is." His response would have been heartier had they not all

made this joke at best varying it with, "Is it hot enough for you

down there?" which he hated just as much.

In the middle of his second year at school, a quiet, handsome

boy named Percy Washington had been put in John's form. The

newcomer was pleasant in his manner and exceedingly well

dressed even for St. Midas', but for some reason he kept aloof from

the other boys. The only person with whom he was intimate was

John T. Unger, but even to John he was entirely uncommunicative

concerning his home or his family. That he was wealthy went without

saying, but beyond a few such deductions John knew little of his

friend, so it promised rich confectionery for his curiosity when Percy

invited him to spend the summer at his home "in the West." He

accepted, without hesitation.

It was only when they were in the train that Percy became, for the

first time, rather communicative. One day while they were eating

lunch in the dining-car and discussing the imperfect characters of

several of the boys at school, Percy suddenly changed his tone and

made an abrupt remark.

"My father," he said, "is by far the richest man in the world."

"Oh," said John, politely. He could think of no answer to make to

this confidence. He considered "That's very nice," but it sounded

hollow and was on the point of saying, "Really?" but refrained since

it would seem to question Percy's statement. And such an astound-

ing statement could scarcely be questioned.

"By far the richest," repeated Percy.

"I was reading in the World Almanac" began John, "that there

was one man in America with an income of over five million a year

and four men with incomes of over three million a year, and "

"Oh, they're nothing," Percy's mouth was a half-moon of scorn.

"Catch-penny capitalists, financial small-fry, petty merchants and

money-lenders. My father could buy them out and not know he'd

done it."

"But how does he "

"Why haven't they put down his income tax? Because he doesn't

pay any. At least he pays a little one but he doesn't pay any on his

real income."

"He must be very rich," said John simply. "I'm glad. I like very

rich people.

"The richer a fella is, the better I like him." There was a look of

passionate frankness upon his dark face. "I visited the Schnlitzer-

Murphys last Easter. Vivian Schnlitzer-Murphy had rubies as big

as hen's eggs, and sapphires that were like globes with lights inside

them "

"I love jewels," agreed Percy enthusiastically. "Of course I

wouldn't want any one at school to know about it, but I've got quite

a collection myself. I used to collect them instead of stamps."

"And diamonds," continued John eagerly. "The Schnlitzer-

Murphys had diamonds as big as walnuts "

"That's nothing." Percy had leaned forward and dropped his voice

to a low whisper. "That's nothing at all. My father has a diamond

bigger than the Ritz-Carlton Hotel."

                                                   II

The Montana sunset lay between two mountains like a gigantic

bruise from which dark arteries spread themselves over a poisoned

sky. An immense distance under the sky crouched the village of Fish,

minute, dismal, and forgotten. There were twelve men, so it was said,

in the village of Fish, twelve sombre and inexplicable souls who

sucked a lean milk from the almost literally bare rock upon which

a mysterious populatory force had begotten them. They had become

a race apart, these twelve men of Fish, like some species developed

by an early whim of nature, which on second thought had abandoned

them to struggle and extermination.

Out of the blue-black bruise in the distance crept a long line of

moving lights upon the desolation of the land, and the twelve men

of Fish gathered like ghosts at the shanty depot to watch the passing

of the seven o'clock train, the Transcontinental Express from Chi-

cago. Six times or so a year the Transcontinental Express, through

some inconceivable jurisdiction, stopped at the village of Fish, and

when this occurred a figure or so would disembark, mount into a

buggy that always appeared from out of the dusk, and drive off

toward the bruised sunset. The observation of this pointless and pre-

posterous phenomenon had become a sort of cult among the men of

Fish. To observe, that was all ; there remained in them none of the

vital quality of illusion which would make them wonder or speculate,

else a religion might have grown up around these mysterious visita-

tions. But the men of Fish were beyond all religion the barest and

most savage tenets of even Christianity could gain no foothold on that

barren rock so there was no altar, no priest, no sacrifice ; only each

night at seven the silent concourse by the shanty depot, a congrega-

tion who lifted up a prayer of dim, anaemic wonder.

On this June night, the Great Brakeman, whom, had they deified

any one, they might well have chosen as their celestial protagonist,

had ordained that the seven o'clock train should leave its human (or

inhuman) deposit at Fish. At two minutes after seven Percy Wash-

ington and John T. linger disembarked, hurried past the spellbound,

the agape, the fearsome eyes of the twelve men of Fish, mounted into

a buggy which had obviously appeared from nowhere, and drove

away.

After half an hour, when the twilight had coagulated into dark, the

silent negro who was driving the buggy hailed an opaque body some-

where ahead of them in the gloom. In response to his cry, it turned

upon them a luminous disk which regarded them like a malignant

eye out of the unfathomable night. As they came closer, John saw

that it was the tail-light of an immense automobile, larger and more

magnificent than any he had ever seen. Its body was of gleaming

metal richer than nickel and lighter than silver, and the hubs of the

wheels were studded with iridescent geometric figures of green and

yellow John did not dare to guess whether they were glass or

jewel.

Two negroes, dressed in glittering livery such as one sees in pic-

tures of royal processions in London, were standing at attention

beside the car and as the two young men dismounted from the buggy

they were greeted in some language which the guest could not under-

stand, but which seemed to be an extreme form of the Southern

negro's dialect.

Get in," said Percy to his friend, as their trunks were tossed to

the ebony roof of the limousine. "Sorry we had to bring you this far

in that buggy, but of course it wouldn't do for the people on the train

or those Godforsaken fellas in Fish to see this automobile."

“Gosh! What a car!" This ejaculation was provoked by its

interior. John saw that the upholstery consisted of a thousand minute

and exquisite tapestries of silk, woven with jewels and embroideries,

and set upon a background of cloth of gold. The two armchair seats

in which the boys luxuriated were covered with stuff that resembled

duvetyn, but seemed woven in numberless colors of the ends of ostrich

feathers.

"What a car!" cried John again, in amazement.

"This thing?" Percy laughed. "Why, it's just an old junk we use for

a station wagon."

By this time they were gliding along through the darkness toward

the break between the two mountains.

"We'll be there in an hour and a half," said Percy, looking at the

clock. "I may as well tell you it's not going to be like anything you

ever saw before."

If the car was any indication of what John would see, he was pre-

pared to be astonished indeed. The simple piety prevalent in Hades

has the earnest worship of and respect for riches as the first article

of its creed had John felt otherwise than radiantly humble before

them, his parents would have turned away in horror at the blasphemy.

They had now reached and were entering the break between the

two mountains and almost immediately the way became much

rougher.

"If the moon shone down here, you'd see that we're in a big gulch,"

said Percy, trying to peer out of the window. He spoke a few words

into the mouthpiece and immediately the footman turned on a search-

light and swept the hillsides with an immense beam.

"Rocky, you see. An ordinary car would be knocked to pieces in

half an hour. In fact, it'd take a tank to navigate it unless you knew

the way. You notice we're going uphill now."

They were obviously ascending, and within a few minutes the car

was crossing a high rise, where they caught a glimpse of a pale moon

newly risen in the distance. The car stopped suddenly and several

figures took shape out of the dark beside it these were negroes also.

Again the two young men were saluted in the same dimly recogniz-

able dialect ; then the negroes set to work and four immense cables

dangling from overhead were attached with hooks to the hubs of the

great jeweled wheels. At a resounding "Hey-yah!" John felt the car

being lifted slowly from the ground up and up clear of the tallest

rocks on both sides then higher, until he could see a wavy, moonlit

valley stretched out before him in sharp contrast to the quagmire of

rocks that they had just left. Only on one side was there still rock

and then suddenly there was no rock beside them or anywhere around.

It was apparent that they had surmounted some immense knife-

blade of stone, projecting perpendicularly into the air. In a moment

they were going down again, and finally with a soft bump they were

landed upon the smooth earth.

"The worst is over," said Percy, squinting out the window. "It's

only five miles from here, and our own road tapestry brick all the

way. This belongs to us. This is where the United States ends,

father says."

"Are we in Canada?"

"We are not. We're in the middle of the Montana Rockies. But

you are now on the only five square miles of land in the country

that's never been surveyed."

"Why hasn't it? Did they forget it?"

"No," said Percy, grinning, "they tried to do it three times. The

first time my grandfather corrupted a whole department of the State

survey ; the second time he had the official maps of the United States

tinkered with that held them for fifteen years. The last time was

harder. My father fixed it so that their compasses were in the strong-

est magnetic field ever artificially set up. He had a whole set of sur-

veying instruments made with a slight defection that would allow

for this territory not to appear, and he substituted them for the ones

that were to be used. Then he had a river deflected and he had what

looked like a village built up on its banks so that they'd see it, and

think it was a town ten miles farther up the valley. There's only one

thing my father's afraid of," he concluded, "only one thing in the

world that could be used to find us out."

"What's that?"

Percy sank his voice to a whisper.

"Aeroplanes,' he breathed. "We've got half a dozen anti-aircraft

guns and we've arranged it so far but there've been a few deaths and

a great many prisoners. Not that we mind that, you know, father and

I, but it upsets mother and the girls, and there's always the chance

that some time we won't be able to arrange it."

Shreds and tatters of chinchilla, courtesy clouds in the green

moon's heaven, were passing the green moon like precious Eastern

stuffs paraded for the inspection of some Tartar Khan. It seemed to

John that it was day, and that he was looking at some lads sailing

above him in the air, showering down tracts and patent medicine

circulars, with their messages of hope for despairing, rockbound ham-

lets. It seemed to him that he could see them look down out of the

clouds and stare and stare at whatever there was to stare at in this

place whither he was bound What then? Were they induced to

land by some insidious device there to be immured far from patent

medicines and from tracts until the judgment day or, should they

fail to fall into the trap, did a quick puff of smoke and the sharp

round of a splitting shell bring them drooping to earth and "upset"

Percy's mother and sisters. John shook his head and the wraith of a

hollow laugh issued silently from his parted lips. What desperate

transaction lay hidden here? What a moral expedient of a bizarre

Croesus ? What terrible and golden mystery ? . . .

The chinchilla clouds had drifted past now and outside the Mon-

tana night was bright as day. The tapestry brick of the road was

smooth to the tread of the great tires as they rounded a still, moonlit

lake ; they passed into darkness for a moment, a pine grove, pungent

and cool, then they came out into a broad avenue of lawn and John's

exclamation of pleasure was simultaneous with Percy's taciturn

"We're home."

Full in the light of the stars, an exquisite chateau rose from the

borders of the lake, climbed in marble radiance half the height of an

adjoining mountain, then melted in grace, in perfect symmetry, in

translucent feminine languor, into the massed darkness of a forest of

pine. The many towers, the slender tracery of the sloping parapets,

the chiselled wonder of a thousand yellow windows with their oblongs

and hectagons and triangles of golden light, the shattered softness of

the intersecting planes of star-shine and blue shade, all trembled on

John's spirit like a chord of music. On one of the towers, the tallest,

the blackest at its base, an arrangement of exterior lights at the top

made a sort of floating fairyland and as John gazed up in warm en-

chantment the faint acciaccare sound of violins drifted down in a

rococo harmony that was like nothing he had ever heard before.

Then in a moment the car stopped before wide, high marble steps

around which the night air was fragrant with a host of flowers. At

the top of the steps two great doors swung silently open and amber

light flooded out upon the darkness, silhouetting the figure of an

exquisite lady with black, high-piled hair, who held out her arms

toward them.

"Mother," Percy was saying, "this is my friend, John linger, from

Hades."

Afterward John remembered that first night as a daze of many

colors, of quick sensory impressions, of music soft as a voice in love,

and of the beauty of things, lights and shadows, and motions and

faces. There was a white-haired man who stood drinking a many-

hued cordial from a crystal thimble set on a golden stem. There was

a girl with a flowery face, dressed like Titania with braided sapphires

in her hair. There was a room where the solid, soft gold of the walls

yielded to the pressure of his hand, and a room that was iike a

platonic conception of the ultimate prison ceiling, floor, and all, it

was lined with an unbroken mass of diamonds, diamonds of every

size and shape, until, lit with tall violet lamps in the corners, it

dazzled the eyes with a whiteness that could be compared only with

itself, beyond human wish or dream.

Through a maze of these rooms the two boys wandered. Sometimes

the floor under their feet would flame in brilliant patterns from light-

ing below, patterns of barbaric clashing colors, of pastel delicacy, of

sheer whiteness, or of subtle and intricate mosaic, surely from some

mosque on the Adriatic Sea. Sometimes beneath layers of thick crystal

he would see blue or green water swirling, inhabited by vivid fish and

growths of rainbow foliage. Then they would be treading on furs of

every texture and color or along corridors of palest ivory, unbroken

as though carved complete from the gigantic tusks of dinosaurs

extinct before the age of man. . . .

Then a hazily remembered transition, and they were at dinner

where each plate was of two almost imperceptible layers of solid

diamond between which was curiously worked a filigree of emerald

design, a shaving sliced from green air. Music, plangent and unob-

trusive, drifted down through far corridors his chair, feathered and

curved insidiously to his back, seemed to engulf and overpower him

as he drank his first glass of port. He tried drowsily to answer a

question that had been asked him, but the honeyed luxury that

clasped his body added to the illusion of sleep jewels, fabrics, wines,

and metals blurred before his eyes into a sweet mist. . . .

"Yes," he replied with a polite effort, "it certainly is hot enough

for me down there."

He managed to add a ghostly laugh; then, without movement,

without resistance, he seemed to float off and away, leaving an iced

dessert that was pink as a dream. ... He fell asleep.

When he awoke he knew that several hours had passed. He was in

a great quiet room with ebony walls and a dull illumination that was

too faint, too subtle, to be called a light. His young host was stand-

ing over him.

"You fell asleep at dinner/' Percy was saying. "I nearly did, too

it was such a treat to be comfortable again after this year of school.

Servants undressed and bathed you while you were sleeping."

"Is this a bed or a cloud?" sighed John. "Percy, Percy before you

go, I want to apologize."

"For what?"

"For doubting you when you said you had a diamond as big as

the Ritz-Carlton Hotel."

Percy smiled.

"I thought you didn't believe me. It's that mountain, you know."

"What mountain?"

"The mountain the chateau rests on. It's not very big. for a moun-

tain. But except about fifty feet of sod and gravel on top it's solid

diamond. One diamond, one cubic mile without a flaw. Aren't you

listening? Say "

But John T. linger had again fallen asleep.

                                                       Ill

Morning. As he awoke he perceived drowsily that the room had at

the same moment become dense with sunlight. The ebony panels of

one wall had slid aside on a sort of track, leaving his chamber half

open to the day. A large negro in a white uniform stood beside his

bed.

"Good-evening," muttered John, summoning his brains from the

wild places.

"Good-morning, sir. Are you ready for your bath, sir? Oh, don't

get up I'll put you in, if you'll just unbutton your pajamas there.

Thank you, sir."

John lay quietly as his pajamas were removed he was amused

and delighted; he expected to be lifted like a child by this black

Gargantua who was tending him, but nothing of the sort happened ;

instead he felt the bed tilt up slowly on its side he began to roll,

startled at first, in the direction of the wall, but when he reached the

wall its drapery gave way, and sliding two yards farther down a

fleecy incline he plumped gently into water the same temperature as

his body.

He looked about him.. The runway or rollway on which he had

arrived had folded gently back into place. He had been projected

into another chamber and was sitting in a sunken bath with his head

just above the level of the floor. All about him, lining the walls of the

room and the sides and bottom of the bath itself, was a blue aqua-

rium, and gazing through the crystal surface on which he sat, he

could see fish swimming among amber lights and even gliding with-

out curiosity past his outstretched toes, which were separated from

them only by the thickness of the crystal. From overhead, sunlight

came down through sea-green glass.

"I suppose, sir, that you'd like hot rosewater and soapsuds this

morning, sir and perhaps cold salt water to finish."

The negro was standing beside him.

"Yes," agreed John, smiling inanely, "as you please." Any idea of

ordering this bath according to his own meagre standards of living

would have been priggish and not a little wicked.

The negro pressed a button and a warm rain began to fall, appar-

ently from overhead, but really, so John discovered after a moment,

from a fountain arrangement near by. The water turned to a pale

rose color and jets of liquid soap spurted into it from four miniature

walrus heads at the corners of the bath. In a moment a dozen little

paddle-wheels, fixed to the sides, had churned the mixture into a

radiant rainbow of pink foam which enveloped him softly with its

delicious lightness, and burst in shining, rosy bubbles here and there

about him.

"Shall I turn on the moving-picture machine, sir?" suggested the

negro deferentially. "There's a good one-reel comedy in this machine

to-day, or I can put in a serious piece in a moment, if you prefer it."

"No, thanks," answered John, politely but firmly. He was enjoying

his bath too much to desire any distraction. But distraction came.

In a moment he was listening intently to the sound of flutes from

just outside, flutes dripping a melody that was like a waterfall, cool

and green as the room itself, accompanying a frothy piccolo, in play

more fragile than the lace of suds that covered and charmed him.

After a cold salt-water bracer and a cold fresh finish, he stepped

out and into a fleecy robe, and upon a couch covered with the same

material he was rubbed with oil, alcohol, and spice. Later he sat in

a voluptuous chair while he was shaved and his hair was trimmed.

"Mr. Percy is waiting in your sitting-room," said the negro, when

these operations were finished. "My name is Gygsum, Mr. Unger,

sir. I am to see to Mr. Unger every morning."

John walked out into the brisk sunshine of his living-room, where

he found breakfast waiting for him and Percy, gorgeous in white kid

knickerbockers, smoking in an easy chair.

                                   IV

This is a story of the Washington family as Percy sketched it for

John during breakfast.

The father of the present Mr. Washington had been a Virginian,

a direct descendant of George Washington, and Lord Baltimore. At

the close of the Civil War he was a twenty-five-year-old Colonel with

a played-out plantation and about a thousand dollars in gold.

Fitz-Norman Culpepper Washington, for that was the young

Colonel's name, decided to present the Virginia estate to his younger

brother and go West. He selected two dozen of the most faithful

blacks, who, of course, worshipped him, and bought twenty-five

tickets to the West, where he intended to take out land in their

names and start a sheep and cattle ranch.

When he had been in Montana for less than a month and things

were going very poorly indeed, he stumbled on his great discovery.

He had lost his way when riding in the hills, and after a day without

food he began to grow hungry. As he was without his rifle, he was

forced to pursue a squirrel, and in the course of the pursuit he noticed

that it was carrying something shiny in its mouth. Just before it van-

ished into its hole for Providence did not intend that this squirrel

should alleviate his hunger it dropped its burden. Sitting down to

consider the situation Fitz-Norman's eye was caught by a gleam in

the grass beside him. In ten seconds he had completely lost his

appetite and gained one hundred thousand dollars. The squirrel,

which had refused with annoying persistence to become food, had

made him a present of a large and perfect diamond.

Late that night he found his way to camp and twelve hours later

all the males among his darkies were back by the squirrel hole dig-

ging furiously at the side of the mountain. He told them he had dis-

covered a rhinestone mine, and, as only one or two of them had ever

seen even a small diamond before, they believed him, without ques-

tion. When the magnitude of his discovery became apparent to him,

he found himself in a quandary. The mountain was a diamond it

was literally nothing else but solid diamond. He filled four saddle

bags full of glittering samples and started on horseback for St. Paul.

There he managed to dispose of half a dozen small stones when he

tried a larger one a storekeeper fainted and Fitz-Norman was arrested

as a public disturber. He escaped from jail and caught the train for

New York, where he sold a few medium-sized diamonds and received

in exchange about two hundred thousand dollars in gold. But he did

not dare to produce any exceptional gems in fact, he left New York

just in time. Tremendous excitement had been created in jewelry

circles, not so much by the size of his diamonds as by their appear-

ance in the city from mysterious sources. Wild rumors became cur-

rent that a diamond mine had been discovered in the Catskills, on

the Jersey coast, on Long Island, beneath Washington Square. Excur-

sion trains, packed with men carrying picks and shovels began to

leave New York hourly, bound for various neighboring El Dorados.

But by that time young Fitz-Norman was on his way back to

Montana.

By the end of a fortnight he had estimated that the diamond in the

mountain was approximately equal in quantity to all the rest of the

diamonds known to exist in the world. There was no valuing it by any

regular computation, however, for it was one solid diamond and if

it were offered for sale not only would the bottom fall out of the

market, but also, if the value should vary with its size in the usual

arithmetical progression, there would not be enough gold in the

world to buy a tenth part of it. And what could any one do with a

diamond that size ?

It was an amazing predicament. He was, in one sense, the richest

man that ever lived and yet was he worth anything at all ? If his

secret should transpire there was no telling to what measures the

Government might resort in order to prevent a panic, in gold as well

as in jewels. They might take over the claim immediately and insti-

tute a monopoly.

There was no alternative he must market his mountain in secret.

He sent South for his younger brother and put him in charge of his

colored following darkies who had never realized that slavery was

abolished. To make sure of this, he read them a proclamation that

he had composed, which announced that General Forrest had reor-

ganized the shattered Southern armies and defeated the North in

one pitched battle. The negroes believed him implicitly. They passed

a vote declaring it a good thing and held revival services imme-

diately.

Fitz-Norman himself set out for foreign parts with one hundred

thousand dollars and two trunks filled with rough diamonds of all

sizes. He sailed for Russia in a Chinese junk and six months after

his departure from Montana he was in St. Petersburg. He took ob-

scure lodgings and called immediately upon the court jeweller, an-

nouncing that he had a diamond for the Czar. He remained in St.

Petersburg for two weeks, in constant danger of being murdered,

living from lodging to lodging, and afraid to visit his trunks more

than three or four times during the whole fortnight.

On his promise to return in a year with larger and finer stones, he

was allowed to leave for India. Before* he left, however, the Court

Treasurers had deposited to his credit, in American banks, the sum

of fifteen million dollars under four different aliases.

He returned to America in 1868, having been gone a little over

two years. He had visited the capitals of twenty-two countries and

talked with five emperors, eleven kings, three princes, a shah, a khan,

and a sultan. At that time Fitz-Norman estimated his own wealth

at one billion dollars. One fact worked consistently against the dis-

closure of his secret. No one of his larger diamonds remained in the

public eye for a week before being invested with a history of enough

fatalities, amours, revolutions, and wars to have occupied it from the

days of the first Babylonian Empire.

From 1870 until his death in 1900, the history of Fitz-Norman

Washington was a long epic in gold. There were side issues, of course

he evaded the surveys, he married a Virginia lady, by whom he

had a single son, and he was compelled, due to a series of unfortunate

complications, to murder his brother, whose unfortunate habit of

drinking himself into an indiscreet stupor had several times endan-

gered their safety. But very few other murders stained these happy

vears of progress and expansion.

Just before he died he changed his policy, and with all but a few

million dollars of his outside wealth bought up rare minerals in bulk,

which he deposited in the safety vaults of banks all over the world,

marked as bric-a-brac. His son, Braddock Tarleton Washington,

followed this policy on an even more tensive scale. The minerals were

converted into the rarest of all elements radium so that the equiva-

lent of a billion dollars in gold could be placed in a receptacle no

bigger than a cigar box.

When Fitz-Norman had been dead three years his son, Braddock,

decided that the business had gone far enough. The amount of wealth

that he and his father had taken out of the mountain was beyond

all exact computation. He kept a note-book in cipher in which he set

down the approximate quantity of radium in each of the thousand

banks he patronized, and recorded the alias under which it was held.

Then he did a very simple thing he sealed up the mine.

He sealed up the mine. What had been taken out of it would sup-

port all the Washingtons yet to be born in unparalleled luxury for

generations. His one care must be the protection of his secret, lest in

the possible panic attendant on its discovery he should be reduced

with all the property-holders in the world to utter poverty,

This was the family among whom John T. linger was staying. This

was the story he heard in his silver-walled living-room the morning

after his arrival.

                                           V

After breakfast, John found his way out the great marble entrance,

and looked curiously at the scene before him. The whole valley, from

the diamond mountain to the steep granite cliff five miles away, still

gave off a breath of golden haze which hovered idly above the fine

sweep of lawns and lakes and gardens. Here and there clusters of

elms made delicate groves of shade, contrasting strangely with the

tough masses of pine forest that held the hills in a grip of dark-blue

green. Even as John looked he saw three fawns in single file patter

out from one clump about a half mile away and disappear with awk-

ward gayety into the black-ribbed half-light of another. John would

not have been surprised to see a goat-foot piping his way among the

trees or to catch a glimpse of pink nymph-skin and flying yellow hair

between the greenest of the green leaves.

In some such cool hope he descended the marble steps, disturbing

faintly the sleep of two silky Russian wolfhounds at the bottom, and

set off along a walk of white and blue brick that seemed to lead in no

particular direction.

He was enjoying himself as much as he was able. It is youth's

felicity as well as its insufficiency that it can never live in the present,

but must always be measuring up the day against its own radiantly

imagined future flowers and gold, girls and stars, they are only pre-

figurations and prophecies of that incomparable, unattainable young

dream.

John rounded a soft corner where the massed rosebushes filled the

air with heavy scent, and struck off across a park toward a patch of

moss under some trees. He had never lain upon moss, and he wanted

to see whether it was really soft enough to justify the use of its name

as an adjective. Then he saw a girl coming toward him over the grass.

She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

She was dressed in a white little gown that came just below her

knees, and a wreath of mignonettes clasped with blue slices of

sapphire bound up her hair. Her pink bare feet scattered the dew

before them as she came. She was younger than John not more than

sixteen.

"Hello," she cried softly, "I'm Kismine."

She was much more than that to John already. He advanced

toward her, scarcely moving as he drew near lest he should tread on

her bare toes.

"You haven't met me," said her soft voice. Her blue eyes added,

"Oh, but you've missed a great deal!" . . . "You met my sister,

Jasmine, last night. I was sick with lettuce poisoning," went on her

soft voice, and her eyes continued, "and when I'm sick I'm sweet

and when I'm well."

"You have made an enormous impression on me," said John's eyes,

"and I'm not so slow myself" "How do you do?" said his voice. "I

hope you're better this morning." "You darling," added his eyes

tremulously.

John observed that they had been walking along the path. On her

suggestion they sat down together upon the moss, the softness of

which he failed to determine.

He was critical about women. A single defect a thick ankle, a

hoarse voice, a glass eye was enough to make him utterly indiffer-

ent. And here for the first time in his life he was beside a girl who

seemed to him the incarnation of physical perfection.

"Are you from the East?" asked Kismine with charming interest.

"No," answered John simply. "I'm from Hades."

Either she had never heard of Hades, or she could think of

no pleasant comment to make upon it, for she did not discuss it

further,

"I'm going East to school this fall," she said. "D'you think 111 like

it? I'm going to New York to Miss Bulge's. It's very strict, but you

see over the weekends I'm going to live at home with the family in

our New York house, because father heard that the girls had to go

walking two by two."

"Your father wants you to be proud," observed John.

"We are," she answered, her eyes shining with dignity. "None of

us has ever been punished. Father said we never should be. Once

when my sister Jasmine was a little girl she pushed him down-stairs

and he just got up and limped away.

"Mother was well, a little startled," continued Kismine, "when

she heard that you were from from where you are from, you know.

She said that when she was a young girl but then, you see, she's a

Spaniard and old-fashioned."

"Do you spend much time out here?" asked John, to conceal the

fact that he was somewhat hurt by this remark. It seemed an unkind

allusion to his provincialism.

"Percy and Jasmine and I are here every summer, but next sum-

mer Jasmine is going to Newport. She's coming out in London a year

from this fall. She'll be presented at court."

"Do you know," began John hesitantly, "you're much more

sophisticated than I thought you were when I first saw you?"

"Oh, no, I'm not," she exclaimed hurriedly. "Oh, I wouldn't think

of being. I think that sophisticated young people are terribly com-

mon, don't you? I'm not at all, really. If you say I am, I'm going

to cry."

She was so distressed that her lip was trembling. John was impelled

to protest : "I didn't mean that ; I only said it to tease you."

"Because I wouldn't mind if I were" she persisted "but I'm not.

I'm very innocent and girlish. I never smoke, or drink, or read any-

thing except poetry. I know scarcely any mathematics or chemistry.

I dress very simply in fact, I scarcely dress at all. I think sophisti-

cated is the last thing you can say about me. I believe that girls ought

to enjoy their youths in a wholesome way."

“I do too," said John heartily.

Kismine was cheerful again. She smiled at him, and a still-born

tear dripped from the corner of one blue eye.

"I like you," she whispered, intimately. "Are you going to spend

all your time with Percy while you're here, or will you be nice to me ?

Just think I'm absolutely fresh ground. I've never had a boy in

love with me in all my life. I've never been allowed even to see boys

alone except Percy. I came all the way out here into this grove hop-

ing to run into you, where the family wouldn't be around."

Deeply flattered, John bowed from the hips as he had been taught

at dancing school in Hades.

"We'd better go now," said Kismine sweetly. "I have to be with

mother at eleven. You haven't asked me to kiss you once. I thought

boys always did that nowadays."

John drew himself up proudly.

"Some of them do," he answered, "but not me. Girls don't do that

sort of thing in Hades."

Side by side they walked back toward the house.

                                            VI

John stood facing Mr. Braddock Washington in the full sunlight.

The elder man was about forty with a proud, vacuous face, intelligent

eyes, and a robust figure. In the mornings he smelt of horses

the best horses. He carried a plain walking-stick of gray birch

with a single large opal for a grip. He and Percy were showing John

around.

"The slaves' quarters are there." His walking-stick indicated a

cloister of marble on their left that ran in graceful Gothic along the

side of the mountain. "In my youth I was distracted for a while from

the business of life by a period of absurd idealism. During that time

they lived in luxury. For instance, I equipped every one of their

rooms with a tile bath."

"I suppose," ventured John, with an ingratiating laugh, "that they

used the bathtubs to keep coal in. Mr. Schnlitzer-Murphy told me

that once he "

"The opinions of Mr. Schnlitzer-Murphy are of little importance,

I should imagine," interrupted Braddock Washington, coldly. "My

slaves did not keep coal in their bathtubs. They had orders to bathe

every day, and they did. If they hadn't I might have ordered a sul-

phuric acid shampoo. I discontinued the baths for quite another

reason. Several of them caught cold and died. Water is not good for

certain races except as a beverage."

John laughed, and then decided to nod his head in sober agreement.

Braddock Washington made him uncomfortable.

"All these negroes are descendants of the ones my father brought

North with him. There are about two hundred and fifty now. You

notice that they've lived so long apart from the world that their

original dialect has become an almost indistinguishable patois. We

bring a few of them up to speak English my secretary and two or

three of the house servants.

"This is the golf course," he continued, as they strolled along the

velvet winter grass. "It's all a green, you see no fairway, no rough,

no hazards."

He smiled pleasantly at John.

"Many men in the cage, father ?" asked Percy suddenly.

Braddock Washington stumbled, and let forth an involuntary

curse.

"One less than there should be," he ejaculated darkly and then

added after a moment, "We've had difficulties."

"Mother was telling me," exclaimed Percy, "that Italian

teacher "

"A ghastly error," said Braddock Washington angrily. "But of

course there's a good chance that we may have got him. Perhaps he

fell somewhere in the woods or stumbled over a cliff. And then there's

always the probability that if he did get away his story wouldn't be

believed. Nevertheless, I've had two dozen men looking for him in

different towns around here."

"And no luck?"

"Some. Fourteen of them reported to my agent that they'd each

killed a man answering to that description, but of course it was prob-

ably only the reward they were after "

He broke off. They had come to a large cavity in the earth about

the circumference of a merry-go-round and covered by a strong iron

grating. Braddock Washington beckoned to John, and pointed his

cane down through the grating. John stepped to the edge and gazed.

Immediately his ears were assailed by a wild clamor from below.

"Come on down to Hell ! "

"Hello, kiddo, how's the air up there?"

"Hey! Throw us a rope!"

"Got an old doughnut, Buddy, or a couple of second-hand sand-

wiches?"

"Say, fella, if you'll push down that guy you're with, we'll show

you a quick disappearance scene."

"Paste him one for me, will you?"

It was too dark to see clearly into the pit below, but John could

tell from the coarse optimism and rugged vitality of the remarks and

voices that they proceeded from middle-class Americans of the more

spirited type. Then Mr. Washington put out his cane and touched a

button in the grass, and the scene below sprang into light.

"These are some adventurous mariners who had the misfortune

to discover El Dorado," he remarked.

Below them there had appeared a large hollow in the earth shaped

like the interior of a bowl. The sides were steep and apparently of

polished glass, and on its slightly concave surface stood about two

dozen men clad in the half costume, half uniform, of aviators. Their

upturned faces, lit with wrath, with malice, with despair, with

cynical humor, were covered by long growths of beard, but with the

exception of a few who had pined perceptibly away, they seemed to

be a well-fed, healthy lot.

Braddock Washington drew a garden chair to the edge of the pit

and sat down.

"Well, how are you, boys?" he inquired genially.

A chorus of execration in which all joined except a few too dis-

pirited to cry out, rose up into the sunny air, but Braddock Wash-

ington heard it with unruffled composure. When its last echo had died

away he spoke again.

"Have you thought up a way out of your difficulty?"

From here and there among them a remark floated up.

"We decided to stay here for love ! "

"Bring us up there and well find us a way!"

Braddock Washington waited until they were again quiet. Then

he said : "Ive told you the situation. I don't want you here. I wish to

heaven I'd never seen you. Your own curiosity got you here, and any

time that you can think of a way out which protects me and my inter-

ests I'll be glad to consider it. But so long as you confine your efforts

to digging tunnels yes, I know about the new one you've started

you won't get very far. This isn't as hard on you as you make it out,

with all your howling for the loved ones at home. If you were the

type who worried much about the loved ones at home, you'd never

have taken up aviation."

A tall man moved apart from the others, and held up his hand to

call his captor's attention to what he was about to say.

"Let me ask you a few questions ! " he cried. "You pretend to be a

fair-minded man."

"How absurd. How could a man of my position be fair-minded

toward you ? You might as well speak of a Spaniard being fair-minded

toward a piece of steak."

At this harsh observation the faces of the two dozen steaks fell,

but the tall man continued : "All right!" he cried. "We've argued this out before. You're not a humanitarian and you're not fair-minded, but you're human at

least you say you are and you ought to be able to put yourself in

our place for long enough to think how how how "

"How what?" demanded Washington, coldly.

" how unnecessary "

"Not to me."

"Well how cruel "

"We've covered that. Cruelty doesn't exist where self-preserva-

tion is involved. You've been soldiers: you know that. Try

another."

"Well, then, how stupid."

"There," admitted Washington, "I grant you that. But try to think

of an alternative. I've offered to have all or any of you painlessly

executed if you wish. I've offered to have your wives, sweethearts,

children, and mothers kidnapped and brought out here. I'll enlarge

your place down there and feed and clothe you the rest of your lives.

If there was some method of producing permanent amnesia I'd have

all of you operated on and released immediately, somewhere outside

of my preserves. But that's as far as my ideas go."

"How about trusting us not to peach on you?" cried some one.

"You don't proffer that suggestion seriously," said Washington,

with an expression of scorn. "I did take out one man to teach my

daughter Italian. Last week he got away."

A wild yell of jubilation went up suddenly from two dozen throats

and a pandemonium of joy ensued. The prisoners clog-danced and

cheered and yodled and wrestled with one another in a sudden up-

rush of animal spirits. They even ran up the glass sides of the bowl

as far as they could, and slid back to the bottom upon the natural

cushions of their bodies. The tall man started a song in which they

all joined

"Oh, we'll hang the kaiser

On a sour apple tree "

Braddock Washington sat in inscrutable silence until the song was

over.

"You see," he remarked, when he could gain a modicum of atten-

tion. "I bear you no ill-will. I like to see you enjoying yourselves.

That's why I didn't tell you the whole story at once. The man what

was his name? Critchtichiello ? was shot by some of my agents in

fourteen different places."

Not guessing that the places referred to were cities, the tumult of

rejoicing subsided immediately.

"Nevertheless," cried Washington with a touch of anger, "he tried

to run away. Do you expect me to take chances with any of you after

an experience like that?"

Again a series of ejaculations went up.

Sure ! "

"Would your daughter like to learn Chinese?"

"Hey, I can speak Italian! My mother was a wop."

"Maybe she'd like t'learna speak N'Yawk!"

"If she's the little one with the big blue eyes I can teach her a lot

of things better than Italian."

"I know some Irish songs and I could hammer brass once't."

Mr. Washington reached forward suddenly with his cane and

pushed the button in the grass so that the picture below went out

instantly, and there remained only that great dark mouth covered

dismally with the black teeth of the grating.

"Hey!" called a single voice from below, "you ain't goin' away

without givin' us your blessing?"

But Mr. Washington, followed by the two boys, was already stroll-

ing on toward the ninth hole of the golf course, as though the pit and

its contents were no more than a hazard over which his facile iron

had triumphed with ease.

VII

July under the lee of the diamond mountain was a month of blanket

nights and of warm, glowing days. John and Kismine were in love.

He did not know that the little gold football (inscribed with the

legend Pro deo et patria et St. Mida) which he had given her rested

on a platinum chain next to her bosom. But it did. And she for her

part was not aware that a large sapphire which had dropped one day

from her simple coiffure was stowed away tenderly in John's jewel

box.

Late one afternoon when the ruby and ermine music room was

quiet, they spent an hour there together. He held her hand and she

gave him such a look that he whispered her name aloud. She bent

toward him then hesitated.

"Did you say 'Kismine'?" she asked softly, "or "

She had wanted to be sure. She thought she might have misunder-

stood.

Neither of them had ever kissed before, but in the course of an

hour it seemed to make little difference.

The afternoon drifted away. That night when a last breath of

music drifted down from the highest tower, they each lay awake,

happily dreaming over the separate minutes of the day. They had

decided to be married as soon as possible.

VIII

Every day Mr. Washington and the two young men went hunting

or fishing in the deep forests or played golf around the somnolent

course games which John diplomatically allowed his host to win

or swam in the mountain coolness of the lake. John found Mr. Wash-

ington a somewhat exacting personality utterly uninterested in any

ideas or opinions except his own. Mrs. Washington was aloof and re-

served at all times. She was apparently indifferent to her two daugh-

ters, and entirely absorbed in her son Percy, with whom she held

interminable conversations in rapid Spanish at dinner.

Jasmine, the elder daughter, resembled Kismine in appearance

except that she was somewhat bow-legged, and terminated in large

hands and feet but was utterly unlike her in temperament. Her

favorite books had to do with poor girls who kept house for widowed

fathers. John learned from Kismine that Jasmine had never recov-

ered from the shock and disappointment caused her by the termina-

tion of the World War, just as she was about to start for Europe as

a canteen expert. She had even pined away for a time, and Braddock

Washington had taken steps to promote a new war in the Balkans

but she had seen a photograph of some wounded Serbian soldiers and

lost interest in the whole proceedings. But Percy and Kismine seemed

to have inherited the arrogant attitude in all its harsh magnificence

from their father. A chaste and consistent selfishness ran like a pat-

tern through their every idea.

John was enchanted by the wonders of the chateau and the valley.

Braddock Washington, so Percy told him, had caused to be kidnapped

a landscape gardener, an architect, a designer of state settings, and a

French decadent poet left over from the last century. He had put

his entire force of negroes at their disposal, guaranteed to supply

them with any materials that the world could offer, and left

them to work out some ideas of their own. But one by one they had

shown their uselessness. The decadent poet had at once begun bewail-

ing his separation from the boulevards in spring he made some

vague remarks about spices, apes, and ivories, but said nothing that

was of any practical value. The stage designer on his part wanted to

make the whole valley a series of tricks and sensational effects a

state of things that the Washingtons would soon have grown tired

of. And as for the architect and the landscape gardener, they thought

only in terms of convention. They must make this like this and that

like that.

But they had, at least, solved the problem of what was to be done

with them they all went mad early one morning after spending

the night in a single room trying to agree upon the location of a

fountain, and were now confined comfortably in an insane asylum at

Westport, Connecticut.

"But," inquired John curiously, "who did plan all your wonderful

reception rooms and halls, and approaches and bathrooms ?"

"Well," answered Percy, "I blush to tell you, but it was a moving-

picture fella. He was the only man we found who was used to playing

with an unlimited amount of money, though he did tuck his napkin in

his collar and couldn't read or write."

As August drew to a close John began to regret that he must soon

go back to school. He and Kismine had decided to elope the follow-

ing June.

"It would be nicer to be married here," Kismine confessed, "but

of course I could never get father's permission to marry you at all.

Next to that I'd rather elope. It's terrible for wealthy people to be

married in America at present they always have to send out bulle-

tins to the press saying that they're going to be married in remnants,

when what they mean is just a peck of old second-hand pearls and

some used lace worn once by the Empress Eugenie."

"I know," agreed John fervently. "When I was visiting the

Schnlitzer-Murphys, the eldest daughter, Gwendolyn, married a man

whose father owns half of West Virginia. She wrote home saying what

a tough struggle she was carrying on on his salary as a bank clerk

and then she ended up by saying that 'Thank God, I have four good

maids anyhow, and that helps a little.' "

"It's absurd," commented Kismine. "Think of the millions and

millions of people in the world, laborers and all, who get along with

only two maids."

One afternoon late in August a chance remark of Kismine's

changed the face of the entire situation, and threw John into a state

of terror.

They were in their favorite grove, and between kisses John was

indulging in some romantic forebodings which he fancied added

poignancy to their relations.

"Sometimes I think we'll never marry," he said sadly. "You're too

wealthy, too magnificent. No one as rich as you are can be like other

girls. I should marry the daughter of some well-to-do wholesale hard-

ware man from Omaha or Sioux City, and be content with her half-

million."

"I knew the daughter of a wholesale hardware man once," re-

marked Kismine. "I don't think you'd have been contented with her.

She was a friend of my sister's. She visited here."

"Oh, then you've had other guests?" exclaimed John in surprise.

Kismine seemed to regret her words.

Oh, yes," she said hurriedly, "we've had a few."

"But aren't you wasn't your father afraid they'd talk outside?"

"Oh, to some extent, to some extent," she answered. "Let's talk

about something pleasanter."

But John's curiosity was aroused.

"Something pleasanter ! " he demanded. "What's unpleasant about

that? Weren't they nice girls?"

To his great surprise Kismine began to weep.

"Yes th that's the the whole t-trouble. I grew qu-quite

attached to some of them. So did Jasmine, but she kept inv-viting

them anyway. I couldn't understand it."

A dark suspicion was born in John's heart.

"Do you mean that they told, and your father had them re-

moved?''

"Worse than that," she muttered brokenly. "Father took no

chances and Jasmine kept writing them to come, and they had such

a good time ! "

She was overcome by a paroxysm of grief.

Stunned with the horror of this revelation, John sat there open-

mouthed, feeling the nerves of his body twitter like so many sparrows

perched upon his spinal column.

"Now, I've told you, and I shouldn't have," she said, calming sud-

denly and drying her dark blue eyes.

"Do you mean to say that your father had them murdered before

they left?"

She nodded.

"In August usually or early in September. It's only natural for

us to get all the pleasure out of them that we can first."

"How abominable! How why, I must be going crazy! Did you

really admit that "

"I did," interrupted Kismine, shrugging her shoulders. "We can't

very well imprison them like those aviators, where they'd be a con-

tinual reproach to us every day. And it's always been made easier

for Jasmine and me, because father had it done sooner than we

expected. In that way we avoided any farewell scene "

"So you murdered them ! Uh ! " cried John.

"It was done very nicely. They were drugged while they were

asleep and their families were always told that they died of scarlet

fever in Butte."

"But I fail to understand why you kept on inviting them!"

"I didn't," burst out Kismine. "I never invited one. Jasmine did.

And they always had a very good time. She'd give them the nicest

presents toward the last. I shall probably have visitors too I'll

harden up to it. We can't let such an inevitable thing as death stand

in the way of enjoying life while we have it. Think how lone-

some it'd be out here if we never had any one. Why, father

and mother have sacrificed some of their best friends just as we

have."

"And so," cried John accusingly, "and so you were letting me make

love to you and pretending to return it, and talking about marriage,

all the time knowing perfectly well that I'd never get out of here

alive "

"No," she protested passionately. "Not any more. I did at first.

You were here. I couldn't help that, and I thought your last days

might as well be pleasant for both of us. But then I fell in love with

you, and and I'm honestly sorry you're going to going to be put

away though I'd rather you'd be put away than ever kiss another

girl."

"Oh, you would, would you?" cried John ferociously.

"Much rather. Besides, I Ve always heard that a girl can have more

fun with a man whom she knows she can never marry. Oh, why did

I tell you? IVe probably spoiled your whole good time now, and we

were really enjoying things when you didn't know it. I knew it would

make things sort of depressing for you."

"Oh, you did, did you?" John's voice trembled with anger. "I've

heard about enough of this. If you haven't any more pride and de-

cency than to have an affair with a fellow that you know isn't much

better than a corpse, I don't want to have any more to do with you ! "

"You're not a corpse!" she protested in horror. "You're not a

corpse ! I won't have you saying that I kissed a corpse ! "

"I said nothing of the sort!"

“You did ! You said I kissed a corpse ! "

"I didn't I"

Their voices had risen, but upon a sudden interruption they both

subsided into immediate silence. Footsteps were coming along the

path in their direction, and a moment later the rose bushes were

parted displaying Braddock Washington, whose intelligent eyes set

in his good-looking vacuous face were peering in at them.

"Who kissed a corpse?" he demanded in obvious disapproval.

"Nobody," answered Kismine quickly. "We were just joking."

"What are you two doing here, anyhow?" he demanded gruffly.

"Kismine, you ought to be to be reading or playing golf with your

sister. Go read ! Go play golf ! Don't let me find you here when I

come back ! "

Then he bowed at John and went up the path.

"See?" said Kismine crossly, when he was out of hearing. "You've

spoiled it all. We can never meet any more. He won't let me meet

you. He'd have you poisoned if he thought we were in love."

"We're not, any more!" cried John fiercely, "so he can set his

mind at rest upon that. Moreover, don't fool yourself that I'm going

to stay around here. Inside of six hours I'll be over those mountains,

if I have to gnaw a passage through them, and on my way East."

They had both got to their feet, and at this remark Kismine came

close and put her arm through his.

"I'm going, too."

"You must be crazy "

"Of course I'm going," she interrupted impatiently.

"You most certainly are not. You "

"Very well," she said quietly, "we'll catch up with father now and

talk it over with

Defeated, John mustered a sickly smile.

"Very well, dearest," he agreed, with pale and unconvincing affec-

tion, "well go together."

His love for her returned and settled placidly on his heart. She

was his she would go with him to share his dangers. He put his

arms about her and kissed her fervently. After all she loved him;

she had saved him, in fact.

Discussing the matter, they walked slowly back toward the chateau.

They decided that since Braddock Washington had seen them to^

gether they had best depart the next night. Nevertheless, John's lips

were unusually dry at dinner, and he nervously emptied a great

spoonful of peacock soup into his left lung. He had to be carried into

the turquoise and sable card-room and pounded on the back by one

of the under-butlers, which Percy considered a great joke.

IX

Long after midnight John's body gave a nervous jerk, and he sat

suddenly upright, staring into the veils of somnolence that draped

the room. Through the squares of blue darkness that were his open

windows, he had heard a faint far-away sound that died upon a bed

of wind before identifying itself on his memory, clouded with uneasy

dreams. But the sharp noise that had succeeded it was nearer, was

just outside the room the click of a turned knob, a footstep, a

whisper, he could not tell ; a hard lump gathered in the pit of his

stomach, and his whole body ached in the moment that he strained

agonizingly to hear. Then one of the veils seemed to dissolve, and he

saw a vague figure standing by the door, a figure only faintly limned

and blocked in upon the darkness, mingled so with the folds of the

drapery as to seem distorted, like a reflection seen in a dirty pane of

glass.

With a sudden movement of fright or resolution John pressed the

button by his bedside, and the next moment he was sitting in the

green sunken bath of the adjoining room, waked into alertness by

the shock of the cold water which half filled it.

He sprang out, and, his wet pajamas scattering a heavy trickle of

water behind him, ran for the aquamarine door which he knew led

out onto the ivory landing of the second floor. The door opened noise-

lessly. A single crimson lamp burning in a great dome above lit the

magnificent sweep of the carved stairways with a poignant beauty.

For a moment John hesitated, appalled by the silent splendor massed

about him, seeming to envelop in its gigantic folds and contours the

solitary drenched little figure shivering upon the ivory landing. Then

simultaneously two things happened. The door of his own sitting-

room swung open, precipitating three naked negroes into the hall

and, as John swayed in wild terror toward the stairway, another

door slid back in the wall on the other side of the corridor, and John

saw Braddock Washington standing in the lighted lift, wearing a fur

coat and a pair of riding boots which reached to his knees and dis-

played, above, the glow of his rose-colored pajamas.

On the instant the three negroes John had never seen any of them

before, and it flashed through his mind that they must be the pro-

fessional executioners paused in their movement toward John, and

turned expectantly to the man in the lift, who burst out with an im-

perious command : "Get in here ! All three of you ! Quick as hell ! "

Then, within the instant, the three negroes darted into the cage,

the oblong of light was blotted out as the lift door slid shut, and

John was again alone in the hall. He slumped weakly down against

an ivory stair.

It was apparent that something portentous had occurred, some-

thing which, for the moment at least, had postponed his own petty

disaster. What was it? Had the negroes risen in revolt? Had the

aviators forced aside the iron bars of the grating ? Or had the men of

Fish stumbled blindly through the hills and gazed with bleak, joyless

eyes upon the gaudy valley? John did not know. He heard a faint

whir of air as the lift whizzed up again, and then, a moment later,

as it descended. It was probable that Percy was hurrying to his

father's assistance, and it occurred to John that this was his oppor-

tunity to join Kismine and plan an immediate escape. He waited

until the lift had been silent for several minutes ; shivering a little

with the night cool that whipped in through his wet pajamas, he re-

turned to his room and dressed himself quickly. Then he mounted a

long flight of stairs and turned down the corridor carpeted with Rus-

sian sable which led to Kismine's suite.

The door of her sitting-room was open and the lamps were lighted.

Kismine, in an angora kimono, stood near the window of the room in

a listening attitude, and as John entered noiselessly, she turned

toward him.

"Oh, it's you ! " she whispered, crossing the room to him. "Did you

hear them?"

"I heard your father's slaves in my "

"No," she interrupted excitedly. "Aeroplanes ! "

"Aeroplanes? Perhaps that was the sound that woke me."

"ThereVe at least a dozen. I saw one a few moments ago dead

against the moon. The guard back by the cliff fired his rifle and that's

what roused father. We're going to open on them right away."

"Are they here on purpose ?"

"Yes it's that Italian who got away "

Simultaneously with her last word, a succession of sharp cracks

tumbled in through the open window. Kismine uttered a little cry,

took a penny with fumbling fingers from a box on her dresser, and

ran to one of the electric lights. In an instant the entire chateau was

in darkness she had blown out the fuse.

"Come on ! " she cried to him. "We'll go up to the roof garden,

and watch it from there ! "

Drawing a cape about her, she took his hand, and they found their

way out the door. It was only a step to the tower lift, and as she

pressed the button that shot them upward he put his arms around

her in the darkness and kissed her mouth. Romance had come 10

John Unger at last. A minute later they had stepped out upon the

star-white platform. Above, under the misty moon, sliding in and

out of the patches of cloud that eddied below it, floated a dozen dark-

winged bodies in a constant circling course. From here and there in

the valley flashes of fire leaped toward them, followed by sharp

detonations. Kismine clapped her hands with pleasure, which a

moment later, turned to dismay as the aeroplanes at some pre-

arranged signal, began to release their bombs and the whole of the

valley became a panorama of deep reverberate sound and lurid light.

Before long the aim of the attackers became concentrated upon

the points where the anti-aircraft guns were situated, and one of them

was almost immediately reduced to a giant cinder to lie smouldering

in a park of rose bushes.

"Kismine," begged John, "you'll be glad when I tell you that this

attack came on the eve of my murder. If I hadn't heard that guard

shoot off his gun back by the pass I should now be stone dead "

"I can't hear you ! " cried Kismine, intent on the scene before her.

"You'll have to talk louder ! "

"I simply said," shouted John, "that we'd better get out before

they begin to shell the Chateau ! "

Suddenly the whole portico of the negro quarters cracked asunder,

a geyser of flame shot up from under the colonnades, and great frag-

ments of jagged marble were hurled as far as the borders of the

lake.

"There go fifty thousand dollars' worth of slaves," cried Kismine,

"at prewar prices. So few Americans have any respect for property."

John renewed his efforts to compel her to leave. The aim of the

aeroplanes was becoming more precise minute by minute, and only

two of the anti-aircraft guns were still retaliating. It was obvious

that the garrison, encircled with fire, could not hold out much

longer.

"Come on?" cried John, pulling Kismine's arm, "we've got to

go. Do you realize that those aviators will kill you without question

if they find you?"

She consented reluctantly.

" We'll have to wake Jasmine ! " she said, as they hurried toward

the lift. Then she added in a sort of childish delight: "Well be poor,

won't we ? Like people in books. And 111 be an orphan and utterly

free. Free and poor ! What fun ! " She stopped and raised her lips to

him in a delighted kiss.

"It's impossible to be both together," said John grimly. "People

have found that out. And I should choose to be free as preferable of

the two. As an extra caution you'd better dump the contents of your

jewel box into your pockets."

Ten minutes later the two girls met John in the dark corridor and

they descended to the main floor of the chateau. Passing for the last

time through the magnificence of the splendid halls, they stood for a

moment out on the terrace, watching the burning negro quarters and

the flaming embers of two planes which had fallen on the other side

of the lake. A solitary gun was still keeping up a sturdy popping, and

the attackers seemed timorous about descending lower, but sent their

thunderous fireworks in a circle around it, until any chance shot

might annihilate its Ethiopian crew.

John and the two sisters passed down the marble steps, turned

sharply to the left, and began to ascend a narrow path that wound

like a garter about the diamond mountain. Kismine knew a heavily

wooded spot half-way up where they could lie concealed and yet be

able to observe the wild night in the valley finally to make an

escape, when it should be necessary, along a secret path laid in a

rocky gully.

It was three o'clock when they attained their destination. The

obliging and phlegmatic Jasmine fell off to sleep immediately, lean-

ing against the trunk of a large tree, while John and Kismine sat, his

arm around her, and watched the desperate ebb and flow of the dying

battle among the ruins of a vista that had been a garden spot that

morning. Shortly after four o'clock the last remaining gun gave out

a clanging sound and went out of action in a swift tongue of red

smoke. Though the moon was down, they saw that the flying bodies

were circling closer to the earth. When the planes had made certain

that the beleaguered possessed no further resources, they would land

and the dark and glittering reign of the Washingtons would be over.

With the cessation of the firing the valley grew quiet. The embers

of the two aeroplanes glowed like the eyes of some monster crouch-

ing in the grass. The chateau stood dark and silent, beautiful without

light as it had been beautiful in the sun, while the woody rattles of

Nemesis filled the air above with a growing and receding complaint.

Then John perceived that Kismine, like her sister, had fallen sound

asleep.

It was long after four when he became aware of footsteps along

the path they had lately followed, and he waited in breathless silence

until the persons to whom they belonged had passed the vantage-

point he occupied. There was a faint stir in the air now that was not

of human origin, and the dew was cold ; he knew that the dawn would

break soon. John waited until the steps had gone a safe distance up

the mountain and were inaudible. Then he followed. About half-way

to the steep summit the trees fell away and a hard saddle of rock

spread itself over the diamond beneath. Just before he reached this

point he slowed down his pace, warned by an animal sense that there

was life just ahead of him. Coming to a high boulder, he lifted his

head gradually above its edge. His curiosity was rewarded ; this is

what he saw : Braddock Washington was standing there motionless, silhouetted

against the gray sky without sound or sign of life. As the dawn came

up out of the east, lending a cold green color to the earth, it brought

the solitary figure into insignificant contrast with the new day.

While John watched, his host remained for a few moments ab-

sorbed in some inscrutable contemplation ; then he signalled to the

two negroes who crouched at his feet to lift the burden which lay

between them. As they struggled upright, the first yellow beam of the

sun struck through the innumerable prisms of an immense and ex-

quisitely chiselled diamond and a white radiance was kindled that

glowed upon the air like a fragment of the morning star. The bearers

staggered beneath its weight for a moment then their rippling

muscles caught and hardened under the wet shine of the skins and

the three figures were again motionless in their defiant impotency

before the heavens.

After a while the white man lifted his head and slowly raised his

arms in a gesture of attention, as one who would call a great crowd

to hear but there was no crowd, only the vast silence of the moun-

tain and the sky, broken by faint bird voices down among the trees.

The figure on the saddle of rock began to speak ponderously and

with an inextinguishable pride.

"You out there " he cried in a trembling voice. "You there !"

He paused, his arms still uplifted, his head held attentively as though

he were expecting an answer. John strained his eyes to see whether

there might be men coming down the mountain, but the mountain

was bare of human life. There was only sky and a mocking flute of

wind along the tree-tops. Could Washington be praying? For a

moment John wondered. Then the illusion passed there was some-

thing in the man's whole attitude antithetical to prayer.

"Oh, you above there ! "

The voice was become strong and confident. This was no forlorn

supplication. If anything, there was in it a quality of monstrous

condescension.

"You there "

Words, too quickly uttered to be understood, flowing one into the

other. . . . John listened breathlessly, catching a phrase here and

there, while the voice broke off, resumed, broke off again now strong

and argumentative, now colored with a slow, puzzled impatience.

Then a conviction commenced to dawn on the single listener, and as

realization crept over him a spray of quick blood rushed through his

arteries. Braddock Washington was offering a bribe to God !

That was it there was no doubt. The diamond in the arms

of his slaves was some advance sample, a promise of more to

follow.

That, John perceived after a time, was the thread running through

his sentences. Prometheus Enriched was calling to witness forgotten

sacrifices, forgotten rituals, prayers obsolete before the birth of

Christ. For a while his discourse took the form of reminding God of

this gift or that which Divinity had deigned to accept from men

great churches if he would rescue cities from the plague, gifts of

myrrh and gold, of human lives and beautiful women and captive

armies, of children and queens, of beasts of the forest and field, sheep

and goats, harvests and cities, whole conquered lands that had been

offered up in lust or blood for His appeasal, buying a meed's worth of

alleviation from the Divine wrath and now he, Braddock Wash-

ington, Emperor of Diamonds, king and priest of the age of gold,

arbiter of splendor and luxury, would offer up a treasure such as

princes before him had never dreamed of, offer it up not in suppliance,

but in pride.

He would give to God, he continued, getting down to specifications,

the greatest diamond in the world. This diamond would be cut with

many more thousand facets than there were leaves on a tree, and

yet the whole diamond would be shaped with the perfection of a

stone no bigger than a fly. Many men would work upon it for many

years. It would be set in a great dome of beaten gold, wonderfully

carved and equipped with gates of opal and crusted sapphire. In the

middle would be hollowed out a chapel presided over by an altar of

iridescent, decomposing, ever-changing radium which would burn out

the eyes of any worshipper who lifted up his head from prayer and

on this altar there would be slain for the amusement of the Divine

Benefactor any victim He should choose, even though it should be

the greatest and most powerful man alive.

In return he asked only a simple thing, a thing that for God would

be absurdly easy only that matters should be as they were yester-

day at this hour and that they should so remain. So very simple ! Let

but the heavens open, swallowing these men and their aeroplanes

and then close again. Let him have his slaves once more, restored to

life and well.

There was no one else with whom he had ever needed to treat or

bargain.

He doubted only whether he had made his bribe big enough. God

had His price, of course. God was made in man's image, so it had

been said : He must have His price. And the price would be rare

no cathedral whose building consumed many years, no pyramid con-

structed by ten thousand workmen, would be like this cathedral, this

pyramid.

He paused here. That was his proposition. Everything would be up

to specifications and there was nothing vulgar in his assertion that

it would be cheap at the price. He implied that Providence could

take it or leave it.

As he approached the end his sentences became broken, became

short and uncertain, and his body seemed tense, seemed strained to

catch the slightest pressure or whisper of life in the spaces around

him. His hair had turned gradually white as he talked, and now he

lifted his head high to the heavens like a prophet of old magnifi-

cently mad.

Then, as John stared in giddy fascination, it seemed to him that a

curious phenomenon took place somewhere around him. It was as

though the sky had darkened for an instant, as though there had been

a sudden murmur in a gust of wind, a sound of far-away trumpets,

a sighing like the rustle of a great silken robe for a time the whole

of nature round about partook of this darkness: the birds' song

ceased ; the trees were still, and far over the mountain there was a

mutter of dull, menacing thunder.

That was all. The wind died along the tall grasses of the valley.

The dawn and the day resumed their place in a time, and the risen

sun sent hot waves of yellow mist that made its path bright before

it. The leaves laughed in the sun, and their laughter shook the trees

until each bough was like a girl's school in fairyland. God had refused

to accept the bribe.

For another moment John watched the triumph of the day. Then,

turning, he saw a flutter of brown down by the lake, then another

flutter, then another, like the dance of golden angels alighting from

the clouds. The aeroplanes had come to earth.

John slid off the boulder and ran down the side of the mountain to

the clump of trees, where the two girls were awake and waiting for

him. Kismine sprang to her feet, the jewels in her pockets jingling,

a question on her parted lips, but instinct told John that there was

no time for words. They must get off the mountain without losing

a moment. He seized a hand of each, and in silence they threaded the

tree-trunks, washed with light now and with the rising mist. Behind

them from the valley came no sound at all, except the complaint of

the peacocks far away and the pleasant undertone of morning.

When they had gone about half a mile, they avoided the park land

and entered a narrow path that led over the next rise of ground. At

the highest point of this they paused and turned around. Their eyes

rested upon the mountainside they had just left oppressed by some

dark sense of tragic impendency.

Clear against the sky a broken, white-haired man was slowly de-

scending the steep slope, followed by two gigantic and emotionless

negroes, who carried a burden between them which still flashed and

glittered in the sun. Half-way down two other figures joined them

John could see that they were Mrs. Washington and her son, upon

whose arm she leaned. The aviators had clambered from their ma-

chines to the sweeping lawn in front of the chateau, and with rifles

in hand were starting up the diamond mountain in skirmishing forma-

tion.

But the little group of five which had formed farther up and was

engrossing all the watchers' attention had stopped upon a ledge of

rock. The negroes stooped and pulled up what appeared to be a trap-

door in the side of the mountain. Into this they all disappeared, the

white-haired man first, then his wife and son, finally the two negroes,

the glittering tips of whose jeweled head-dresses caught the sun for

a moment before the trap-door descended and engulfed them all.

Kismine clutched John's arm.

"Oh," she cried wildly, "where are they going? What are they

going to do?"

"It must be some underground way of escape "

A little scream from the two girls interrupted his sentence.

"Don't you see?" sobbed Kismine hysterically. "The mountain is

wired ! "

Even as she spoke John put up his hands to shield his sight. Before

their eyes the whole surface of the mountain had changed suddenly

to a dazzling burning yellow, which showed up through the jacket

of turf as light shows through a human hand. For a moment the in-

tolerable glow continued, and then like an extinguished filament it

disappeared, revealing a black waste from which blue smoke arose

slowly, carrying off with it what remained of vegetation and of human

flesh. Of the aviators there was left neither blood nor bone they

were consumed as completely as the five souls who had gone inside.

Simultaneously, and with an immense concussion, the cMteau

literally threw itself into the air, bursting into flaming fragments as

it rose, and then tumbling back upon itself in a smoking pile that lay

projecting half into the water of the lake. There was no fire what

smoke there was drifted off mingling with the sunshine, and for a few

minutes longer a powdery dust of marble drifted from the great

featureless pile that had once been the house of jewels. There was no

more sound and the three people were alone in the valley.

XI

At sunset John and his two companions reached the high cliff which

had marked the boundaries of the Washingtons' dominion, and

looking back found the valley tranquil and lovely in the dusk. They

sat down to finish the food which Jasmine had brought with her in a

basket.

"There ! " she said, as she spread the table-cloth and put the sand-

wiches in a neat pile upon it. "Don't they look tempting? I always

think that food tastes better outdoors."

"With that remark," remarked Kismine, "Jasmine enters the

middle class."

"Now," said John eagerly, "turn out your pocket and let's see what

jewels you brought along. If you made a good selection we three ought

to live comfortably all the rest of our lives."

Obediently Kismine put her hand in her pocket and tossed two

handfuls of glittering stones before him.

"Not so bad," cried John, enthusiastically. "They aren't very big,

but Hello ! " His expression changed as he held one of them up to

the declining sun. "Why, these aren't diamonds ! There's something

the matter ! "

"By golly!" exclaimed Kismine, with a startled look. "What an

idiot I am ! "

"Why, these are rhinestones I " cried John.

"I know." She broke into a laugh. "I opened the wrong drawer.

They belonged on the dress of a girl who visited Jasmine. I got her

to give them to me in exchange for diamonds. I'd never seen anything

but precious stones before."

"And this is what you brought ?"

"I'm afraid so." She fingered the brilliants wistfully. "I think I

like these better. I'm a little tired of diamonds."

"Very well," said John gloomily. "Well have to live in Hades. And

you will grow old telling incredulous women that you got the wrong

drawer. Unfortunately your father's bank-books were consumed with

him."

"Well, what's the matter with Hades?"

"If I come home with a wife at my age my father is just as liable

as not to cut me off with a hot coal, as they say down there."

Jasmine spoke up.

"I love washing," she said quietly. "I have always washed my own

handkerchiefs. I'll take in laundry and support you both."

"Do they have washwomen in Hades?" asked Kismine innocently.

"Of course," answered John. "It's just like anywhere else."

"I thought perhaps it was too hot to wear any clothes."

John laughed.

"Just try it!" he suggested. "They'll run you out before you're

half started."

"Will father be there ?" she asked.

John turned to her in astonishment.

"Your father is dead," he replied somberly. "Why should he go to

Hades ? You have it confused with another place that was abolished

long ago."

After supper they folded up the table-cloth and spread their

blankets for the night.

"What a dream it was," Kismine sighed, gazing up at the stars.

"How strange it seems to be here with one dress and a penniless

fiance !

"Under the stars," she repeated. "I never noticed the stars before.

I always thought of them as great big diamonds that belonged to

some one. Now they frighten me. They make me feel that it was all

a dream, all my youth."

"It was a dream," said John quietly. "Everybody's youth is a

dream, a form of chemical madness."

"How pleasant then to be insane ! "

"So I'm told," said John gloomily. "I don't know any longer. At

any rate, let us love for a while, for a year or so, you and me. That's

a form of divine drunkenness that we can all try. There are only

diamonds in the whole world, diamonds and perhaps the shabby gift

of disillusion. Well, I have that last and I will make the usual nothing

of it." He shivered. "Turn up your coat collar, little girl, the night's

full of chill and you'll get pneumonia. His was a great sin who first

invented consciousness. Let us lose it for a few hours."

So wrapping himself in his blanket he fell off to sleep.