Chapter 21 Chapter 21 The Jeweler's Tactic

This is a handwritten invitation.Tracy later realized that it changed her life. After Tracy got her share of the money from Jeff Stevens, she moved out of the Saijuni Hotel and took up residence at 47 Park Lane.This is a semi-apartment hotel with a quiet environment, spacious and comfortable rooms, and superb service. The porter in the hall delivered the invitation to her guest room on the second day of her arrival in London.In a thin copperplate script, the invitation read: "A mutual friend of ours suggested that it would be very beneficial for us to get acquainted. Please come to the Ritz this afternoon at four o'clock for tea. If you do not refuse Xi, I will pin a carnation on my front."

Signed "Gunther Hartog" Tracy had never heard of the name.She was inclined to ignore it at first, but curiosity finally got the better of her.So at a quarter past four in the afternoon, she appeared at the entrance of the luxurious restaurant of the Ritz Hotel.She noticed him as soon as she entered the door.Tracy estimated to herself that the man was in his sixties.He has a slender face and a gentle manner, and his appearance is quite funny.His skin was smooth and shiny, almost translucent.He was wearing an extremely well-made anthracite suit with a bright red carnation pinned to the front lapel.

Tracy walked over to his table, and he rose to greet him, bowed and said, "Thank you for accepting." He graciously invited Tracy to take a seat, and his manner was old-fashioned, but Tracy thought it was very unique.He seemed to come from another world.Tracy couldn't imagine what on earth he was trying to do to her. "I'm here purely out of curiosity," Tracy bluntly said, "but are you sure you haven't confused me with some other Tracy Whitney?" Gunther Hartog smiled. "As far as I know, there's only one Tracy Whitney." "What specifically have you heard?"

"Shall we talk over tea?" It is said to be tea, in fact, in addition to fragrant tea, there are finger sandwiches, which contain broken eggs, salmon, cucumber, watercress and chicken, hot scones with cheese and jam, and freshly baked sweets. Pies and such.They ate and chatted. "Your letter mentioned a mutual friend of ours," Tracy began. "Conrad Morgan. I do a little business with him a lot." I did business with him once, Tracy thought bitterly, and he was trying to plot against me. "He's full of praise for you," Gunther Hartog said. Tracy looked at the inviter more carefully.He had an aristocratic air about him, and he was recognizably a rich man.What on earth does he want from me?Tracy asked secretly again.She resolved to let him speak for himself, but the conversation never again brought up Conrad Morgan, or any possible mutual interests between him and Tracy.

Tracy found the meeting pleasant and mysterious.Gunther tells her about his background. "I was born in Munich. My father was a banker. He was very rich, which made me live among famous paintings and antiques since I was a child, so I was afraid that I would be spoiled. My mother was Jewish. After Hitler came to power, I My father refused to leave my mother, and as a result all his property was confiscated. They both died in the bombing. Friends secretly transferred me from Germany to Switzerland. After the war I decided not to return to Germany, so I moved to London. There is an antique shop on the street. I hope you will come to see it someday."

Ah, so there it was, Tracy was surprised to find, he had something to sell me. However, she found that she was wrong. Gunther Hartog said to her casually as he handed over the money to pay: "I have a little house in the Hampshire countryside. A few friends of mine have asked to come for the weekend, and it would be great if you could join us for a get-together." It's delightful." Tracy hesitated.He was a complete stranger, and she had no idea what he was after her; yet she felt that she had nothing to lose. Contrary to her expectations, the weekend was an enjoyable one.What Gunther Hartog called his "little country house" turned out to be a stunningly beautiful seventeenth-century manor on thirty acres of land.Gunther was a widower, alone except for his servants.He led Tracy around on his property.There is a barn with six horses and a yard with chickens and pigs.

"That way we'll never go hungry," he said intently. "Well, now I'll show you my real pastimes." He led Tracy to a dovecote full of pigeons. "These are carrier pigeons," Gunther said proudly. "Look at these little beauties. See that blue-gray one? That's Margot." He held it up and looked at it. "You're such a nasty little chick, you know? She's always a bully, but she's also the smartest." He gently stroked the feathers under its little head, and carefully put it down. The colors of these birds are amazing: blue-black, blue-gray (some with iridescent patterns), silver-gray, you name it.

"But there is no white color." Tracy suddenly realized. "Carrier pigeons are never white," explained Gunther, "because the white feathers tend to shed, and when the pigeons return, they average speeds of forty miles an hour." Tracey watched Gunther feed the pigeons, a special food for racing pigeons, fortified with multivitamins. "These are incredible breeds," Gunther said. "They can find their home from five hundred miles away, you know?" "It's incredible." The guests were equally admirable: a cabinet minister with his wife, an earl, a general and his girlfriend, and an Indian mavadhi, a very pretty and friendly young lady. "Please call me Vee Gee." Her English was barely audible.She was wearing a dark red sari with gold thread jacquard and studded with the most beautiful gems Tracy had ever seen.

"I keep all my jewels in a vault," explained V. Gee. "There are too many robberies these days." On Sunday afternoon, before Tracy left for London, Gunther invited her to his study.They sat opposite each other with a tea table in between.Tracy said, pouring tea into a wafer-thin Berwick teacup, "I don't know why you asked me to come here, Gunther, but for whatever reason, I've had a very bad two days. joy." "I'm glad, Tracy," he added after a short pause, "I've been watching you." "I can tell." "What are your plans for the future?"

She didn't know what to say for a while. "No, I haven't considered the next step yet." "I think we can do a good job working together." "You mean your curio shop?" He laughed. "No, my dear. That's too much for you. It's not worth it. I know how you get out of Conrad Morgan's tricks. Nice job." "Gunther... all of this is already in my past." "So, what is your future? You say you have no plans. You must think about your future. No matter how much money you have, there will always be a time when it runs out. I invite you to consider such a cooperation. I I travel among dignitaries and international celebrities, and often host some fundraising balls, hunting and boating parties, etc. I know the income and expenditure of the rich and wealthy."

"I don't see what all this has to do with me..." "I can introduce you to that golden circle. It's gold, Tracy. I can give you all kinds of information about those elusive jewels, famous paintings, and how to get them without fail. I You can deal with them without anyone noticing. As for you, you can find a reasonable way out for those ill-gotten gains at the expense of others, so that they can balance their income and expenses. You and I will share everything, what do you think? " "I said no." He looked at her thoughtfully. "Okay! If you change your mind, would you please give me a call?" "I won't change my mind, Gunther." Towards evening, Tracy returned to London. Tracy loves London.She dined at restaurants like Le Guevhorch, Bill Bentley, and The Fire Corner, and wandered into Drones after the show for an authentic American hamburger with chili dip.She went to the National Theatre, the Royal Opera House, and went to Christie's and Sotheby's to participate in the big auctions.She shopped at Conch, Funan, and Mason's, and she often browsed at Hechards, Fowlers, and Smith.She hired a car, hired a driver, and spent a memorable weekend at the Sutton Glen Hotel in Hampshire, a lovely hotel with impeccable service on the edge of the New Forest. Of course, all these expenses are huge.No matter how much money you have, there will always be a time when it runs out.Again, Gunther was right that her money wouldn't run out forever.Tracy realized that she had to make arrangements for the future. She was invited several times to spend weekends at Gunther's country house, and she found each time a great enjoyment, and Gunther's company especially made her happy. One Sunday evening, over dinner, a congressman said to Tracy, "I've never met a real Texan, Miss Whitney. What are they like?" Tracy immediately played the up-and-coming Texan rich lady so well that everyone roared with laughter. Afterwards, when Tracy and Gunther were alone in the room, he asked, "How about making a small fortune with your performance?" "I'm not an actor, Gunther." "You've underestimated yourself. There's a jeweler's in London - Parker Brothers, which - in your American terms - specializes in scamming customers. You've given me the idea to make them do what they do Pay a little price for what hurts the world." He shared his thoughts with Tracy. "No," Tracy said.However, the more she pondered, the more excited she became.She thought of the excitement after outwitting the police on Long Island, of Boris Melnikov and Peter Nicholescu, of Jeff Stevens, and that gave her a palpable shudder, And things are in the past. "No, Gunther," she repeated.But this time, her tone was less decisive. London in October was unseasonably warm.Brits and tourists alike seized the moment to enjoy the sun's warmth.The traffic at noon was very heavy, and vehicles in Trafalgar Square, Yining Junction and Piccadilly Circus were blocked from time to time.A white Daimler turned off Oxford Street and drove into New River Street, weaving left and right in the traffic, passing Roland Cardieux, Gages, Royal Bank of Scotland and so on.Passing a few more doors, the car stopped on the side of the road in front of a jewelry store.On one side of the store's doorway was a beautifully designed, polished nameplate with the engraving: Parker Brothers.The full-time driver in uniform stepped out of the limousine and quickly turned around to open the rear door for his master.A young girl stepped out of the car. Her blond hair was recognizable as the hair style of Sasong Hair Salon. The heavy make-up was too much, and she was wearing an Italian-style tight knitted long sweater and a mink coat over it. , is completely out of season. "Where's that storefront, little old man?" she asked, her voice resonant with harsh Texas accents. The professional driver pointed to the entrance. "There, ma'am." "Okay, honey. Stay here. It won't take much work." "I might have to walk around the block, no parking here." She patted him on the back and said, "It's up to you, kid." boy!The driver seemed to have been stabbed with a needle.He was reduced to driving a rental car for others, which was his punishment.He hates all Americans, especially Texans.They are savages, rich savages.But if he knew that his passenger had never seen the Lone Star State (the Lone Star State, another name for Texas), he would be surprised. Tracy looked at her own photo in front of the display window, smiled all over her face, and strode towards the door with high eyesight. A waiter in uniform hurriedly opened the door for her. "Good afternoon, ma'am." "Hello, kid. Does your shop sell anything else besides jewelry?" Just as the words finished, there was another series of giggles. The waiter's face suddenly turned from red to white.Tracy entered the store like a gust of wind, leaving a strong smell of cologne in her wake. Arthur Hilton, a sales clerk in morning coat, came forward. "What can I get you, madam?" "Maybe, maybe not. Old PJ (often initials to people of stature) asked me to buy myself something for my birthday, so I'm here to see. What do you guys have?" "Ma'am, is there anything you are particularly interested in?" "Hey, mate, you Brits are quick at work, aren't you?" She quacked and slapped him on the shoulder.He suppressed his composure. "Maybe, some emeralds, old PJ likes to buy emeralds for me." "This way please..." Hilton led her to a glass case displaying several plates of emeralds. The blond girl's face sank, showing a dismissive expression. "These are little things. Where are their parents?" Hilton said in a daze, "These prices are already as high as 30,000 US dollars." "Go to hell. That's all I've ever tipped the barber." The woman let out a wild laugh. "Old PJ would be ashamed if I brought back a pebble like that." Hilton could imagine what old PJ was like.Potbellied, fat-headed, bluffing, annoying, exactly like this woman.That's how they match.He really couldn't understand why money always flowed into the pockets of people who didn't deserve it. "Ma'am, what price do you want?" "Why don't we start with a hundred G's ('G', American slang for a thousand)?" He was simply baffled. "A hundred G's?" "Hell, I thought you all spoke high standard English. A hundred G's is a hundred thousand." He had no choice but to swallow his anger. "Well, in that case, perhaps you'd better speak to our head of management." The director of the management department was Gregory Hairston, and he always insisted on the principle that any large-scale transaction must be done by himself. Besides, because Parker Brothers employees never took back deductions, the employees could not get extra money from it.With a difficult customer like this, Hilton was happy to let Hairston handle it.Hilton pressed the button under the counter, and after a while, a pale, skinny man came out from the back room.He glanced at the gaudy woman and prayed secretly that his regular customers would not show their faces until the woman was gone. Hilton said, "Mr. Hairston, this lady is—huh? . . . " He looked sideways at the woman. "Bernick, dear, Mary Lou Bernicke. Wife of old PJ Bernicke. And you've all heard of PJ Bernicke." "Of course." Gregory Hairston's mouth moved slightly, giving her a smile. "Mrs. Bernick wants to buy an emerald, Mr. Hairston." Gregory Hairston pointed to the plates of emeralds and said: "These are excellent emeralds..." "She's going to buy something that costs around $100,000." This time the smile on Gregory Hairston's face was genuine.Today's first business is a good sign. "Here it goes, my birthday is coming up and old PJ wants me to buy myself something pretty." "Yes, yes," said Hairston, "please come with me." "You little rascal, what's your idea?" The blonde girl giggled. Hairston and Hilton looked at each other.Fucking Yankee! Hairston led her to a locked door, produced a key, and opened it.They entered a brightly lit hut.Hairston quickly and carefully locked the door. "The stuff here is for special customers," he said. In the center of the room is a display case, in which all kinds of diamonds, rubies and emeralds are neatly arranged, and these gemstones emit strange brilliance, which is dizzying. "Ah, that's what's interesting. Old PJ's going to go nuts here." "Which one do you like, ma'am?" "Let's see what's in here." She went to the jewelry cabinet where the emeralds were kept. "Let me see that string." Hairston took out another small key from his pocket, opened the cabinet, took out a plate of emeralds, and put it on the table.There are ten emeralds in a case lined with green velvet.The woman picked up the largest of them all, an extremely fine platinum brooch, while Hairston watched. "As old PJ used to say: 'It's got my name on it.'" "Good eyesight, ma'am. This is a ten-carat grass-green Colombian emerald. It is flawless..." "Emeralds are never perfect." Hairston was taken aback. "Of course Ma'am is right. I mean..." Only then did he realize that the woman's eyes were as green as the gems she was handling. "We still have a lot to choose from, if..." "Don't bother, dear. Just take this one." The transaction was made in less than three minutes. "Great," said Hairston.He then added something meaningful: "If settled in US dollars, this gem is worth 100,000. Ma'am, how do you pay?" "Don't worry, Ralston, you old boy, I have a dollar account with a bank in London. All I have to do is write a little personal check. Then PJ will pay me back." "Great. I'll have the jewel cleaned up again. Deliver it to your hotel." The gemstones did not need to be cleaned. It was Hairston who left a mind. He would not sell the gemstones until the check was cashed. Many jewelers he knew had been deceived by cunning scammers and reneged on the gemstones.And he had never been cheated out of a pound, which Hairston was quite proud of. "Where do I send the gems?" "We have our own Oliver Maisel flat in Dodge." Hairston hurriedly wrote it down. "Dorchester." "I call it Oliver Massey's Flat." She laughed. "A lot of people don't like this hotel because it's full of Arabs, but old PJ used to do business with them. 'Oil is a kingdom in itself.' He always said that. PJ Benicke was a smart guy." "He must be astute," agreed Hairston casually. He watched her tear off a check and fill it out.He noticed it was a check from Barclays Bank.A friend of his at the bank was able to verify Bernick's account. He took the check. "I'll deliver the jewel to you myself early tomorrow morning." "Old PJ will love it." She smiled broadly. "Of course he will," said Hairston politely. He walked with her to the store door. "Ralston—" He almost wanted to correct her, but held back.Why bother?Will never see her again, thank God! "Yes, ma'am?" "You should come down some afternoon and have tea with us. You'll love old PJ." "I'm sure I will. Unfortunately, I'm on duty in the afternoon, though." "That's too bad." He watched his client walk to the sidewalk.A white Daimler sedan approached slowly and stopped, and the driver came out to open the door for her.The blond turned and gave Hairston a thumbs up, and the car drove away. Back in his office, Hairston picked up the phone and called his friend at Barclays. "Peter, dear, I have here a check for one hundred thousand dollars drawn out to a Mrs. Mary Lou Bernicke. Any questions?" "Wait a minute, old man." Hairston waited.He hoped the check was genuine, because business hadn't been very good lately.The heartbroken Parker brothers complained endlessly, as if he should be responsible for all this, not their responsibility as the boss.Of course, the decline in profits has not yet reached the worst point.Parker Brothers has a department that specializes in cleaning jewelry, and it happens from time to time that the quality of the jewelry sent by customers is greatly reduced after cleaning and finishing.Customers complained and complained, but could not prove that they had done something wrong. Peter went back to the phone. "No problem, Grigory. The balance in the books is more than enough to pay the check." A stone fell from Hairston's heart. "Thank you, Pete." "you are welcome." "Lunch next week—my treat." The next morning, after the check was cashed, the Colombian emerald was delivered by hand to Mrs. PJ Bernicke at the Dorchester Hotel. That afternoon, just before closing time, Gregory Hairston's secretary said: "A person who claims to be Mrs. Bernick is waiting to see you, Mr. Hairston." His heart sank suddenly.She must have come to return the brooch, then he would have to take it back.All women, all Americans, all Texans, damn it!Hairston quickly went out to greet him with a smile on his face. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Bernicke. I suspect your husband is not too pleased with the brooch." She grinned. "You're wrong, kid, old PJ is going crazy with joy." Hairston was delighted. "yes?" "Actually, he's overjoyed. He wants me to buy another one so we can make a pair of earrings. I want another one that's exactly the same." Gregory Hairston could not help frowning. "I'm afraid it might be a little trouble, Mrs. Bernicke." "What's the trouble, dear?" "Your gem is unique. There is no other like it. Well, I have a different model here, and I can..." "I don't want any other style, just one that is exactly the same as the one I bought." "Let me tell you the truth, Mrs. Bernicke, ten carats of flawless Colombian emeralds..." He glanced at her expression, "Almost flawless emeralds are really rare." "Stop rambling, kid. Look hard and there will always be something." "To be honest, I have never seen a gemstone of this texture myself. If you want to find a pair with the exact shape and color, it is simply impossible." "We have a saying in Texas that impossible means taking more time. Saturday is my birthday. PJ wants me to wear those earrings. PJ gets what PJ wants." "I don't think I can possibly..." "How much did I pay for that brooch... a hundred G? I know that old PJ will pay 200,000, or even 300,000 to buy another one." Gregory Hairston was making rapid calculations.There must be a gemstone that is exactly the same, and if PJ Benicke is willing to pay another two hundred thousand dollars, it will be a considerable profit.In fact, Hairston thought, I just have to figure out a way, and this handsome profit will be mine. He said in a loud voice: "I'll ask, Mrs. Bernicke. I'm sure none of the jewelers in London have the same emerald, but there are always some big estates that hold great auctions. I can put an advertisement and see What's the result." "From now until the weekend," the blonde told him. "Let me tell you, 'Only you and I and this pole know', old PJ may be willing to pay 350,000 for it." After Mrs. Benicke finished speaking and left, she saw her mink fur coat rolling up and down like waves. Gregory Hairston sat in his office daydreaming.Fate sent a man to his door who was so infatuated with a yellow-haired woman that he was willing to spend $350,000 on her for an emerald worth $100,000.Net profit of $250,000.Gregory Hairston felt that the Parker Brothers no longer had to worry about the details of the deal.The matter couldn't be simpler, as long as the second emerald gemstone is accounted for one hundred thousand US dollars, and the rest is put into private pockets, everything will be fine.The extra $250,000 will last him a lifetime. All he needed now was to find a match for the emerald he had sold to Mrs. Bernicke. Things were more complicated than Hairston expected.He made phone call after phone call, but none of the jewelers stocked the stones he needed.He placed ads in the London Times and the Financial Times, and called Christie's and Sotheby's, as well as a dozen estate agents.In the next few days, all kinds of emeralds flooded towards Hairston. Most of them were of poor quality, a few were not bad, and some were top-grade, but none of them came close to the standard he required. On Wednesday, Mrs. Benicke had a phone call. "Old PJ can't wait," she warned. "Did you find it?" "Not yet, Mrs. Bernick," Hairston assured her, "don't worry, we'll find it." On Friday, she called again. "Tomorrow is my birthday," she reminded Hairston. "I know, Mrs. Bernicke. If I have a few more days, I know I can..." "Well, you don't mind, it's meant to be fun. If you can't get it out tomorrow morning, I'll give you back the one I've bought. Old PJ said—God bless his heart— —he's going to buy me a great old country house. Ever heard of Sussex?" Hairston was sweating. "Mrs. Bernick," he almost cried, "you'd hate living in Sussex. You wouldn't want to live in country cottages. Most of them are dilapidated, in disrepair, unheated, and ..." "To tell you the truth," she interrupted him, "I'd rather have the earrings. Old PJ even offered to offer $400,000 to match that emerald. You don't know old PJ, stubborn." Four hundred thousand!Hairston clearly felt the money slipping from his fingers. "Trust me, I'm doing my best," he begged. "I need a little more time." "That's none of my business, dear," she said. "That's PJ's business." The phone hangs up. Hairston sat there.Angrily cursing himself for his bad luck.Where to find an identical ten-carat emerald?He was thinking so hard that it took three times for the switch to ring before he heard it.He pressed the button and asked angrily, "What's the matter?" "A Countess named Marisa is on the phone, Mr. Hairston, she is asking about the emerald advertisement." Another one!There have been at least ten phone calls this morning, each time a waste of time.He grabbed the receiver and said unceremoniously, "What's going on?" A soft female voice, with a little Italian accent, said: "Good morning, sir. I read in the newspaper that you might be interested in buying an emerald, yes?" "Yes, if it meets my requirements." He really couldn't restrain his impatience. "I have an emerald that has been in my family for generations. It is really a last resort - such a pity - that I have to sell it." He had heard the story before.I'll have to contact Christie's again, Hairston thought.Or Sotheby, maybe this last moment will pop up, or else... "Sir? You're looking for a ten-carat emerald, aren't you?" "yes." "I have a grass-green Colombian gemstone of ten carats." Hairston was about to answer, but found that his throat was blocked. "Please—could you say it again, please?" "Okay. I have a ten carat grass green Colombian gem. Are you interested?" "Might be interested," he said cautiously. "I wonder if you can come and let me see." "No, sorry, I'm busy right now. We're preparing a banquet for my husband at the embassy. Maybe next week I can..." God!Next week will be too late. "May I come and see?" He tried not to sound eager. "I can come now." "Oh, no. I've been very busy this morning. I was due to go shopping..." "Where do you live, countess?" "The Savoy Hotel." "I'll be there in fifteen minutes. No, ten minutes." His voice had grown impatient. "Well, your name is..." "Halston. Gregory Hairston." "Suite No. 26." The taxis drive really slowly, almost endlessly, never ending.Hairston felt himself falling from heaven to hell and back again from hell to heaven.If that emerald was really like another, he would become incredibly rich overnight.He will give $400,000.A profit of three hundred thousand dollars.He's going to buy a piece of land on the Riviera.Maybe another yacht.Once he has his own villa and his own yacht, he can attract those beautiful young masters to his side, as many as he wants... Gregory Hairston was an atheist, but as he walked down the corridor of the Savoy Hotel to Suite 26, he couldn't help praying that the gem would make old PJ Bay Nick is satisfied. He stood at the door of the Countess's room, took a slow and deep breath, and tried his best to control the excitement in his heart.He knocked on the door, but there was no sound. Ah, my God, thought Hairston.She's gone; she won't wait for me.She went shopping in the street— The door opened, and in front of Hairston stood a graceful and luxurious woman, she was in her fifties, her eyes were brown, the skin on her face was obviously wrinkled, and her hair was black and white. When she spoke, her voice was soft, and she could hear the familiar and pleasant Italian accent. "you are……" "I'm G-Gregory Hairston. You just hung-up me." He stuttered with nervousness. "Ah, yes. I am Countess Marisa. Come in, sir." "thank you." He entered the room, clamping his knees as hard as he could, trying not to tremble."Where's the gem?" he asked almost out of his mouth, but he knew he had to restrain himself from appearing too impatient.If the gem is what he likes, he can also bargain for it.After all, he is an old hand, and she is a layman. "Sit down, please," said the countess. He takes a seat on a chair. "Sorry, my English is not good." "Where is it. It's beautiful, it's beautiful." "Thank you. Would you like coffee, or tea?" "Little, thank you, Countess." He could feel his stomach quivering.Is it too soon to bring up the subject of emeralds?But he couldn't hold back. "That emerald..." She said: "Ah, yes. This emerald was passed down to me by my grandmother. I wanted to pass it on to my daughter when she was twenty-five, but my husband was going to Mirano to have a new one done." business, and I..." Hairston was already out of his mind.He had no interest in the tedious history of the stranger before him.He was anxious to see the emerald.He couldn't stand such an appetite. "I believe this is very important. It will help my husband." She smiled wryly. "Maybe I made a mistake..." "Oh, little, no," said Hairston eagerly, "there's no mistake, Countess. It's a wife's duty to do her husband's favor. Where is the gem now?" "Here I am," said the countess. She reached into her pocket, took out a gem wrapped in soft paper, and handed it to Hairston.He stared at the gem, his heart was already soaring.It was a ten-carat grass-green Colombian emerald of extraordinary beauty that he had never seen before.It was so similar in appearance, shape, and color to the one sold to Mrs. Bernicke that even slight differences would surely be unrecognizable.Not exactly the same, Hairston thought to himself, but only an expert could tell the difference.His hands couldn't help shaking.But he still forced himself to remain calm and keep his composure. He turned the gemstone in his hand, let the light shine on the beautiful facets of the gemstone, and then said disapprovingly: "It's a pretty good gemstone." "It's glorious indeed. I've loved it all these years. I don't want to let it go." "You are right," said Hairston reassuringly, "that once your husband's business is established, you can buy as many of these gems as you like." "I thought so too, it's very kind of you." "I'm doing a favor for a friend, Countess. We've got better stones than this one in our shop, but my friend wants to match that emerald his wife bought. I think he'd give you sixty thousand dollars for yours." pieces." The countess sighed. "My old grandmother will curse at me under nine springs if I only sell for sixty thousand dollars." Hairston curled his lips.He can offer a higher price.He smiled. "I tell you—perhaps I can persuade him to offer a hundred thousand. That's a lot of money, but he wants this gem very badly." “那还差不多。”伯爵夫人说。 格利戈里·海尔斯顿心花怒放。“好吧！我身上带了支票簿，马上就可以给您开张支票……” “啊，不行……恐怕还不能解决我的问题。”伯爵夫人郁悒地说。 海尔斯顿呆呆地看着她。“你的问题？” “是的。我已经说过，我丈夫要做一笔新的生意，他还缺三十五万美元。我自己有十万美元可以给他，我还需要二十五万美元。原先我是指望凭这颗祖母绿宝石弄到这笔钱的。” 他连连摇头。“我亲爱的伯爵夫人，世界上没有一颗祖母绿值那个价。请您相信我，十万美元已经出价过高了。” “我也这么想，海尔斯顿先生，”伯爵夫人对他说，“可是它帮不了我丈夫的忙，是吧？”她站起身来，“那我只好把它留给我女儿了。”她伸出纤纤素手。“谢谢您，先生，谢谢您，让您白跑一趟。” 海尔斯顿站在那里，不知所措。“等一等。”他说。他的贪婪与良知正在争斗格杀，他只知道一点，那就是他无论如何不能让到手的宝石飞了。“请坐下，伯爵夫人。我们一定能达成某种公平的交易。如果我劝说我的客户出十五万美元……” “二十五万美元。” “那么，二十万？” “二十五万美元。” 她横竖不肯退让。海尔斯顿拿定了丰意。十五万美元的赢利总比两手空空要好。这意味着一幢小一点的别墅和游艇，但仍旧是一笔横财。帕克兄弟也活该，谁叫他们待他那么吝啬。他再过一两天就提出辞呈。下星期这时候，他将出现在里维埃拉的蓝色海滩上。 “就依您了。”他说。 “太好了，我非常高兴！” 你这婊子，是该满意了，海尔斯顿想。他没有什么可抱怨的。他乐天知命，绝无非分之想。他又最后看了一眼祖母绿宝石，把它放进自己的口袋。 “我给您开一张店里的支票。” “好，先生。” 海尔斯顿开好支票，递给她。他将请PJ贝尼克夫人将她的四十万美元的支票兑成现钞。彼特会替他兑汇的。他用这笔钱去冲掉帕克兄弟的支票，将差额填入私囊。他可以通过彼特把这一切办妥，这样二十五万美元的支票就不会出现在帕克兄弟公司每月的结算报表上。十五万美元就到手啦。 他仿佛已经感觉到法国的太阳正暖洋洋地照在自己的面颊上。 乘坐出租汽车返回似乎只有几秒钟的风景。海尔斯顿的脑海中浮现出当他把这消息告诉贝尼克夫人时，她那乐不可支的笑容。他不仅为她找到了她所向往的珠宝，而且使她避免了住在四壁穿风，样子东倒西歪的乡间农舍中的痛苦。 海尔斯顿脚下生风一般走进店门，希尔顿迎上前来说：“先生，这里有一位顾客想……” 海尔斯顿得意洋洋地朝他一摆手。“等会儿再说。” 他没有时间接待顾客了，甭说现在，永远也不接待了。从此以后，人们应该侍候他了。今后他将到赫姆斯、古契、朗梵等一流的商场购置商品。 海尔斯顿心绪不宁地走进自己的办公室，关好门，取出祖母绿宝石，把它放在写字台的中央，然后拨了一个电话号码。 接线员的声音：“道契斯特饭店。” “请接奥立佛·麦赛尔公寓。” “请问您找谁接电话？” “PJ贝尼克夫人。” “请稍等片刻。” 海尔斯顿轻悠悠地吹着口哨。 又是接线员的声音：“对不起，贝尼克夫人已经离去。” “那么，请接她新搬入的房间。” “贝尼克夫人已经搬出饭店。” “这不可能。她……” “我替您接服务台。” 一个男子的声音：“服务台。请问您有什么事？” “PJ尼克夫人搬到哪一个房间了？” “贝尼克夫人今天上午结账离去了。” 总得有个说法。也许出了什么意外的紧急情况。 “请告诉我转交她信件的地址。我是……” “对不起。她没有留下地址。” “她一定留下的。” “我亲自办理她离开的手续。她没有留下转交信件的地址。” 这无疑朝他心口捅了一刀。海尔斯顿慢慢挂上听筒，坐在那里，茫然不知所措。他一定要想个办法，与她联系上，让她知道他终于搞到了祖母绿宝石。同时，他必须从玛丽莎伯爵夫人那里取回二十五万美元的支票。 他急忙给赛伏依饭店挂电话。“请接26号套间。” “请问您找谁？” “玛丽莎伯爵夫人。” “请稍等。” 然而，还没有等到接线员重新拿起话筒，格利戈里·海尔斯顿已经有一种不祥的预感，他将听到一个极其可怕的消息。 “对不起。玛丽莎伯爵夫人已经离去。” He hangs up.他的手指颤抖得厉害，好不容易才拨通了银行的号码。 “请接会计部主任……快！我要求对一张支票拒付。” 可是，毫无疑问，他又晚了一步。他以十万美元卖出的祖母绿宝石，又以二十五万美元买了回来。格利戈里·海尔斯顿瘫倒在椅子里，盘算着如何向帕克兄弟解释所发生的这一切。