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mine at the Colonial Institute. “What has South Africa to show the world? What indeed?
Her fruit and her farms, her wool and her wattles, her herds and her hides, her gold
mines and her diamonds—”
I was hurrying on, because I knew that as soon as I paused Reeves would butt in and
inform me that the hides were worthless because the animals hung themselves up on
barbed wire or something of that sort, would crab everything else, and end up with the
hardships of the miners on the Rand. And I was not in the mood to be abused as a
Capitalist. However, the interruption came from another source at the magic word
diamonds.
“Diamonds!” said Mrs. Blair ecstatically.
“Diamonds!” breathed Miss Beddingfeld.
They both addressed Colonel Race.
“I suppose you’ve been to Kimberley?”
I had been to Kimberley too, but I didn’t manage to say so in time. Race was being
inundated with questions. What were mines like? Was it true that the natives were kept
shut up in compounds? And so on.
Race answered their questions and showed a good knowledge of his subject. He
described the methods of housing the natives, the searches instituted, and the various
precautions that De Beers took.
“Then it’s practically impossible to steal any diamonds?” asked Mrs. Blair with as
keen an air of disappointment as though she had been journeying there for the express
purpose.
“Nothing’s impossible, Mrs. Blair. Thefts do occur—like the case I told you of where
the Kafir hid the stone in his wound.”
“Yes, but on a large scale?”
“Once, in recent years. Just before the War, in fact. You must remember the case,
Pedler. You were in South Africa at the time?”
I nodded.
“Tell us,” cried Miss Beddingfeld. “Oh, do tell us!”
Race smiled.
“Very well, you shall have the story. I suppose most of you have heard of Sir Laurence
Eardsley, the great South African mining magnate? His mines were gold mines, but he
comes into the story through his son. You may remember that just before the War
rumours were afield of a new potential Kimberley hidden somewhere in the rocky floor of
the British Guiana jungles. Two young explorers, so it was reported, had returned from
that part of South America bringing with them a remarkable collection of rough
diamonds, some of them of considerable size. Diamonds of small size had been found
before in the neighbourhood of the Essequibo and Mazaruni rivers, but these two young
men, John Eardsley and his friend Lucas, claimed to have discovered beds of great
carbon deposits at the common head of two streams. The diamonds were of every colour,
pink, blue, yellow, green, black, and the purest white. Eardsley and Lucas came to
Kimberley, where they were to submit their gems to inspection. At the same time a
sensational robbery was found to have taken place at De Beers. When sending diamonds
to England they are made up into a packet. This remains in the big safe, of which the two
keys are held by two different men whilst a third man knows the combination. They are
handed to the Bank, and the Bank send them to England. Each package is worth, roughly,
about £100,000.
“On this occasion the Bank were struck by something a little unusual about the sealing
of the packet. It was opened, and found to contain knobs of sugar!
“Exactly how suspicion came to fasten on John Eardsley I do not know. It was
remembered that he had been very wild at Cambridge and that his father had paid his
debts more than once. Anyhow, it soon got about that this story of South American
diamond fields was all a fantasy. John Eardsley was arrested. In his possession was
found a portion of the De Beers diamonds.
“But the case never came to court. Sir Laurence Eardsley paid over a sum equal to the
missing diamonds, and De Beers did not prosecute. Exactly how the robbery was
committed has never been known. But the knowledge that his son was a thief broke the
old man’s heart. He had a stroke shortly afterwards. As for John, his Fate was in a way
merciful. He enlisted, went to the War, fought there bravely, and was killed, thus wiping
out the stain on his name. Sir Laurence himself had a third stroke and died about a
month ago. He died intestate and his vast fortune passed to his next of kin, a man whom
he hardly knew.”
The Colonel paused. A babel of ejaculations and questions broke out. Something
seemed to attract Miss Beddingfeld’s attention, and she turned in her chair. At the little
gasp she gave, I, too, turned.
My new secretary, Rayburn, was standing in the doorway. Under his tan, his face had
the pallor of one who has seen a ghost. Evidently Race’s story had moved him
profoundly.
Suddenly conscious of our scrutiny, he turned abruptly and disappeared.
“Do you know who that is?” asked Anne Beddingfeld abruptly.
“That’s my other secretary,” I explained. “Mr. Rayburn. He’s been seedy up to now.”
She toyed with the bread by her plate.
“Has he been your secretary long?”
“Not very long,” I said cautiously.
But caution is useless with a woman, the more you hold back, the more she presses
forward. Anne Beddingfeld made no bones about it.
“How long?” she asked bluntly.
“Well—er—I engaged him just before I sailed. Old friend of mine recommended him.”
She said nothing more, but relapsed into a thoughtful silence. I turned to Race with the
feeling that it was my turn to display an interest in his story.
“Who is Sir Laurence’s next of kin, Race? Do you know?”
“I should do so,” he replied, with a smile. “I am!”
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