“You see, Ezra,” he said, “diamonds, being a commodity of great value, of which there is never very much in the market at one time, are extremely sensitive to all sorts of influences.  The value of them varies greatly from time to time.  A very little thing serves to depreciate their price, and an equally small thing will send it up again.”

Ezra Girdlestone grunted to show that he followed his father’s remarks.

“I did some business in diamonds myself when I was a younger man, and so I had an opportunity of observing their fluctuations in the market.  Now, there is one thing which invariably depreciates the price of diamonds.  That is the rumour of fresh discoveries of mines in other parts of the world.  The instant such a thing gets wind the value of the stones goes down wonderfully.  The discovery of diamonds in Central India not long ago had that effect very markedly, and they have never recovered their value since.  Do you follow me?”

An expression of interest had come over Ezra’s face, and he nodded to show that he was listening.

“Now, supposing,” continued the senior partner, with a smile on his thin lips, “that such a report got about.  Suppose, too, that we were at this time, when the market was in a depressed condition, to invest a considerable capital in them.  If these rumours of an alleged discovery turned out to be entirely unfounded, of course the value of the stones which we held would go up once more, and we might very well sell out for double or treble the sum that we invested.  Don’t you see the sequence of events?”

“There seems to me to be rather too much of the ‘suppose’ in it,” remarked Ezra.  “How do we know that such rumours will get about; and if they do, how do we know that they will prove to be unfounded?”

“How are we to know?” the merchant cried, wriggling his long lank body with amusement.  “Why, my lad, if we spread the rumours ourselves we shall have pretty good reason to believe that they are unfounded.  Eh, Ezra?  Ha! ha!  You see there are some brains in the old man yet.”

Ezra looked at his father in considerable surprise and some admiration.  “Why, damn it!” he exclaimed, “it’s dishonest.  I’m not sure that it’s not actionable.”

“Dishonest!  Pooh!” The merchant snapped his fingers.  “It’s finesse, my boy, commercial finesse.  Who’s to trace it, I should like to know.  I haven’t worked out all the details—­I want your co-operation over that—­but here’s a rough sketch of my plan.  We send a man we can depend upon to some distant part of the world—­Chimborazo, for example, or the Ural Mountains.  It doesn’t matter where, as long as it is out of the way.  On arriving at this place our agent starts a report that he has discovered a diamond mine.  We should even go the length, if he considers it necessary, of hiding a few rough stones in the earth, which he can dig up to give colour to his story.  Of course