instantly--in the million-dollar stock of precious stones stored
away in the vaults of the H. Latham Company, there was not one to
compare with this.

At length, as he stared at it fascinated, he remembered that he
didn't know its owner, and for the second time he examined the
wrappings, the box inside and out, and finally he lifted out the
lower layer of cotton, seeking a fugitive card or mark of some sort.
Surely the owner of so valuable a stone would not be so careless as
to send it this way, through the mail--unregistered--without some
method of identification! Another sharp scrutiny of box and cotton
and wrappings left him in deep perplexity.

Then another idea came. One of the letters, of course! The owner
of the diamond had sent it this way, perhaps to be set, and had sent
instructions under another cover. An absurd, even a reckless thing
to do, but ----! And Mr. Latham attacked the heap of letters neatly
stacked up in front of him. There were thirty-six of them, but not
one even remotely hinted at diamonds. In order to be perfectly sure,
Mr. Latham went through his mail a second time. Perhaps the letter
of instructions had come addressed to the company, and had gone to
the secretary, Mr. Flitcroft.

He arose to summon Mr. Flitcroft from an adjoining room, then changed
his mind long enough carefully to replace the diamond in the box and
thrust the box into a pigeonhole of his desk. Then he called Mr.
Flitcroft in.

"Have you gone through your morning mail?" Mr. Latham inquired of the
secretary.