blue and the perfect green." He drew a small, glazed white box from
his pocket and opened it. "Please be good enough to look at this, Mr.
Czenki."

He spun a rosily glittering object some three-quarters of an inch in
diameter, along the table toward Mr. Czenki. It flamed and flashed
as it rolled, with that deep iridescent blaze which left no doubt of
what it was. Every man at the table arose and crowded about Mr.
Czenki, who held a flamelike sphere in his outstretched palm for
their inspection. There was a tense, breathless instant.

"It's a diamond!" remarked Mr. Czenki, as if he himself had doubted
it. "A deep rose-color, cut as a perfect sphere."

"It's worth half a million dollars if it's worth a cent!" exclaimed
Mr. Solomon almost fiercely.

"And this, please."

Mr. Wynne, from the other end of the table, spun another glittering
sphere toward them--this as brilliantly, softly green as the verdure
of early spring, prismatic, gleaming, radiant. Mr. Czenki's beady
eyes snapped as he caught it and held it out for the others to see,
and some strange emotion within caused him to close his teeth
savagely.

"And this!" said Mr. Wynne again.

And a third sphere rolled along the table. This was blue--elusively
blue as a moonlit sky. Its rounded sides caught the light from the