The Recipe for Diamonds Read online

  [_Follows, an account of the contention for the blessed RaymondLully's Recipe, as given from Michael Cospatric's own lips._]

  CHAPTER IV.

  MR. WEEMS AND HIS PURCHASE.

  ... Genoa no doubt has its drawbacks. Incessant rain, perennial stink,and big prices can go to make up a heaven for few people. But fortaking the taste of really bitter hard times out of one's mouth, theplace has its good points.

  I'd been catching it bad just before. I'd got on my beam-ends inOporto, and couldn't afford to be fastidious about a berth.Consequently, I'd found myself in a rotten old Genovese tramp barquethat most of the crew had run from because they thought she'd foundernext time she put to sea. Of course the owners didn't want to see heragain, and the skipper had been doing his best to play into their handsall the way down from the Baltic. His mate had contrived to baulk hislosing her during the previous half of the trip, but got sick of thejob and cleared when he found the chance. It was into the mate's shoesthat I stepped; and having no interest in the insurance policy, andplacing a certain value on my own hide, I continued at the same game.We'd a beautiful chance four days out. We picked up a sou'easter offSt. Vincent, and the putty began to tumble out, and she got more of abasket than ever. We'd only ten of a crew all told, and there wasn't aman of them that had had a whole watch below since we got ourclearance. Fore t'gallant mast had gone like a carrot at the cap, andmizzen-mast head was so sprung that she wouldn't bear the spanker. Shewas squattering along under the two lower topsails only, and we amusedourselves by betting when they'd split.

  She was so infernally full of water that she steered like a haystack;and as any one in the waist got half-drowned every minute, long spellsat the pumps weren't popular.

  We couldn't make our easting a bit, and the old man kept saying that weshould never get through the Straits. That was by way of preparation,but I understood what he was up to and said nothing.

  At last he put it to me squarely. 'Twasn't good enough going on likethis. The barque would have to be "Lost at Sea"--luckily the boat downyonder amidships was a thumping big one.

  I said open-boat cruising in a December Atlantic wasn't an amusement Ihankered after, and then asked him bluntly how much he was going toclear out of the job.

  He said, "Nothing;" called a large squad of saints to witness that theloss of his vessel would ruin him; and then, changing tack, promisedthat I should make a good thing out of it.

  But when I tried to pin him, it was no go. He wouldn't make me out acheque; he wouldn't put pen to paper in any way; he wouldn't evenpledge his owners for a figure; and I damned him for a slipperyMaccaroni, and swore I'd drive his old tramp in between Genoa pierheadsjust to square up his meanness. He daren't knife me, because the crewwould have understood why, and raised a wasp's nest; and he had to playthe sailor, because I promised him if he piled her up anywhere I'd goto the nearest Italian consul and report him; but I'll give the mancredit for keeping me in blacker Hades during the rest of that crawlacross than I ever knew existed before. However, he got settled withwhen once we were snugly into harbour, and was a long fortnight inhospital repairing damages. That's where an Englishman scores. Whipaway the _coltello_ from the back of his belt, get him to put uphis hands, steer clear of his feet, and you have a southerner on toast.

  After living like a brute--and acting, of course, so as not to spoilthe completeness of the part--for all that time, I naturally set todoing what the sailor man always does under the circumstances. I gotashore, and started washing the taste out of my mouth. Every man doesthis according to his own lights, and perhaps mine were a trifle out ofthe general groove. Lodging I was not fastidious about, neither did Ilong for drink, nor clothes, nor women. So I put up at a bit of anupstairs _albergo_ in the Via S. Siro, where one who knows theropes can get a decent room for a _lira_, and spent my time andmoney in having daily a real good dinner and hearing some tip-topmusic. And, by Jove, I did enjoy myself. It seemed almost worth goingthrough the bad spell, just for the sake of the contrast.

  But, more's the pity, my pay had been small, and it fractionizedrapidly. The spree could only be a short one.

  However, I wasn't going to run matters too fine this time and getcornered again, as had been my fate at Oporto, so I loafed amongst theshipping offices during my mornings, and had the good luck to stumbleinto a berth on one of the American liners. It was only as third mate,to be sure; but then she was a big ship, and I, professionallyspeaking, was a small man. I hadn't exactly been schooled for the sea,you know, so you can guess I was feeling pretty comfortable over it.

  It's just spells like those which prove to a man how thoroughly life isworth living.

  The end of my tether was not long in coming. A man, when his shoreriotings are thoroughly systematic, as mine were, can calculate hisdays of revelry to a nicety. I had arrived at my last two twenty-lirenotes. I was going to finish up with a ten-lire dinner, then spend fourlire for entrance and a seat at the Carlo Felice to hear "CavalleriaRusticana," leaving part of six lire for bed, morning coffee, and othersundries, besides twenty odd to carry on the war with before I got myadvance on the steamer. Being stone-broke when you go on board doesn'tmatter if you ship forward; but aft, to start with bare pockets may getyou a bad name.

  I had maundered out to the Campo Santo that last day, and on the roadback, just after passing through the walls, an Englishman who had losthimself asked the way to the market-place. He was a little bit of aself-important chap, with a gruff, coarse voice, and schoolmasterwritten in large letters all over him. He knew no word of Italian, andwas evidently feeling lonely to a degree; and so, as I had no objectionto chatting with a countryman, we paced off together and dropped intoconversation. He was "doing" North Italy with a circular ticket, and ashe had read it all up with much thoroughness beforehand, he was verynaturally much disappointed with the reality. "S. Mark's was too small,and Venice was most unhealthy. The sanitation of that part over theRialto Bridge, where the butchers' shops were, was a disgrace to thecountry. The Duomo at Milan was squat, ugly, overrated, and the hotelcharges in that city were most exorbitant. Turin might be a good placefor shopping, but he had not gone there for that purpose. And Genoa,again, was unsanitary." In fact, he was the stereotyped travellingBriton, so full of melancholy discontent and disappointment that onewondered why he did not commit suicide or go home. And as, add to this,he laid down the law with the true schoolmaster's dogmaticalness onevery conceivable subject that cropped up, from music to tattooing, youcan guess that he had in him the makings of a very objectionable beastindeed. However, he was so appallingly ignorant of all the matters heplunged amongst as to be correspondingly amusing, and for that reasonalone I didn't give him the go-by at once.

  We were passing a bookseller's shop, where he caught sight of a mangy,leather-bound MS. in the window, and said he'd ask the price. He didn'tknow in the least what it was about, and didn't seem to care; butsaying that he would make a good profit out of it at Quaritch's, wentinto the shop. I didn't offer an opinion about his last statement, butjust followed. He was demanding "How much?"

  "Vous parlez francais, m'sieu'?" asked the bookseller.

  "Nong, mais this gentleman here parlez Italiano.--I say, will youtranslate for me? Ask the fellow what he'll sell this for."

  I did, and the bookseller started a long yarn about the MS. having comeout of the Marchese di Somebody-or-other's library, where it had lainundisturbed for several thousand years. "Signor," said he, "the book isof inestimable value, and I cannot part with it for less than thirtylire."

  I repeated the gist of this to my man--Weems was his name, by the way,of New, Oxford, so he said--and told him he could get the thing forabout twelve lire, if he cared about it. And, to cut the yarn short, hedid buy it for twelve-fifty, and left the shop feeling that he had beenswindled out of at least half a crown.

  "What's your purchase about?" I asked when we were in the street again.

  He hadn't looked; didn't see that it mattered much; the stuff was old,and that was t
he main thing. All these old MSS. were valuable, andQuaritch was sure to buy it at a good price.

  I still had my doubts about that last, but didn't argue. It was hisaffair, not mine.

  Finally, he suggested dining together, and (as he had been in Genoaexactly twelve hours) laid down the law without the smallest hesitationas to which was the best place to go to, and what was best to have. Bythat time I had got about sick of his society, and said bluntly that,as I knew Genoa thoroughly, I was not going anywhere in the GalleriaMazzini, as he suggested, but to somewhere in another direction; and,further, that as his idea of his menu and mine didn't appear tocoincide in any one item, we had better bid one another good afternoon.But the horror of loneliness loomed near him again, and for one of thefew times in his life he changed front without argument. He wouldgrant, upon second thoughts, that I must know best about such a matter,and would take it as a great favour if he might place himself under myguidance. After which, of course, I could not say anything except thatI should be proud to act as his _cicerone_.

  We had our meal--which was to be my last good one for many a long dayto come--and a beauty it was. Even my North of England grammar-schoolmaster could not but admit the excellence, although he grumbled at theprice. Afterwards we went through into the _caffe_, and I offeredhim a good cigar, saying that if he had been undergoing a course of thelocal vegetable he would appreciate it. However, the creature didn'tsmoke; and as he also didn't drink black coffee, and as I did both, hetook occasion to point out to me at some length that I was deliberatelycrumpling up my constitution. To turn the conversation, I suggestedover-hauling his recent purchase. He seemed sorry to cut short hissermon, but finding that I was paying no attention, asked what the bookwas.

  "It's a diary," said I, "written in Spanish, or to be more accurate,Catalan; and," I added rather maliciously, "I'm afraid you won't getmuch of a fortune out of Quaritch for it, as there seems to be nothinghere except the merest tittle-tattle."

  His face lengthened for a moment at the idea, but the old cocksuremanner came back again, and he pooh-poohed my valuation with loftysuperiority.

  "I presume you are not an expert in such matters as these--er--Mr.Cospatric? No, of course not; it couldn't be expected. But let meassure you that I did not make this outlay with my eyes shut. Trust mefor knowing what I was about." He turned over some dozen of the yellowpages, looking at them curiously. "That _y_ there standing byitself means 'and.' H'm, yes. The thing's clear enough when one looksinto it. I don't profess to translate this old MS. at sight. You seethe--ar--the writing's crabbed; and my time is too much occupied tostudy it carefully. No, I shall just sell the thing to the man Imentioned as it stands. To return to what I was telling you about theuse of tobacco, though. Whether you consider the matter from ascientific or merely from a rational point of view----" And away hesteamed again, whilst I conned over the tangled quill-work.

  My inattention was purposely obvious. I had got thoroughly sick of theman, and wanted to drive him away. But he had only his own society tofall back upon, and he had evidently the good taste to object stronglyto that. And so he preached on.

  There was only one other person at our end of the _caffe_, a dark,good-looking man with blue spectacles, who sat at an adjoining tablewith an _Eco d'Italia_ before him, sipping cognac and sugar. Butwhen Weems tried to drag him into conversation, the curse of the Towerof Babel applied the _cloture_, and, "Ignorant lot, theseItalians," said the schoolmaster, going on to show with many statisticsand arguments that English, being founded on dead languages, wasirrevocably destined by the Fates to become the universal tongue of allterrestrial peoples.

  I looked at the clock. Half an hour yet before the doors of the CarloFelice opened. The steep street outside was wet and miserable. I wentback to turning over the old book. The pages were a queer medley,superbly uninteresting most of them, and tedious to spell out. Therewere the usual Spanish flourishes of lettering and expression, and whenone had winnowed away all this chaff, it needed a great deal of hungerto make one appreciate the grain. In fact, I was on the point ofclosing the old scribble book through sheer weariness, when my eye liton something which, as I read it further, made me fairly sweat.

  Weems droned on with his sermon, and I chucked in question and retortfrom time to time, just to keep him at it. I was wanting to gain timefor a little argument of my own. It was a case of should I keep what Ihad found to myself, or should I share it with Weems? Common sensesaid, "Don't be a fool. If Providence has chucked a good thing in yourway, stick it in your own pocket. That self-sufficient idiot will benone the wiser." But the plague one calls Honour kept shoving in allmanner of objections. By Jove, how a rational-minded cad would havescored there!

  In the long run Honour, confound it, got a bit of a balancer whichhelped it to win. I'd a light purse; Weems seemed better off; he mustsupply the trifle of shot necessary for the pair of us; and together weshould split the proceeds. Yes, that would be the idea. And besides, onsecond thoughts, there'd be lashings and lavings of plunder for both.No need for a bit of sharp practice on my part after all. So up Ispoke:--

  "See here, signor, you've had the carpet for long enough, so give me aturn. This twaddling old screed which you were going to sell withoutever skimming it through holds what means nothing more or less than athumping great fortune for each of us. You've heard of Raymond Lully?No? Well, he was an old swell who flourished in the twelve hundreds,and who was by trade rake, philosopher, quack, fanatic, organizer, andmartyr. He hailed from Mallorca--or Majorca, as you English persist incalling it--and he wrote books on Apologetic Theology, DogmaticDivinity, and Practical Alchemy. Also he penned this diary, which hasevidently been kept pretty snug so far, and thanks to its generaldreary tone, no one has read the memorandum on page the last but one."

  "Let me see," interrupted Weems, stretching out his hand for thevolume.

  "It's of no use to you, as you can't read Spanish. However, I'll tellyou what's here; only let me gently remind you first that if it hadn'tbeen for my knowing the language and conning some of this stuffthrough, the book would have passed out of your hands without your everhaving learnt a word about it. Shall I go on now? It's a bitimportant."

  "Yes, we are practically alone here. That person with the bluespectacles speaks no English, and there is no one else within earshot.But you are slightly in error about my ignorance of Spanish, Mr.Cospatric!"

  "Yes, yes; you know _y_ means 'and,' don't you, and that _si_stands for 'yes,' and all the rest? But don't let's bother about thatnow. Just marvel at this wonderful find. If the old gentleman had onlywritten 'R. Lully, His Book,' on the title-page or at the conclusion,some bibliophile would have picked the thing up for a certainty, andread it with the view of finding what I have found; and part of theworld's history would be different. But as it is, Lully happily omittedhis signature, and in consequence the memorandum of where the Recipecould be found has never been read since the day it was written."

  "But," broke in Weems, "what is this all about? I can't understand whatyou are driving at, except that the book is a diary of Raymond Lully's,whose name, of course, I recollect clearly enough now."

  "My dear sir, whilst this old quack was trafficking with alchemy, andtrying to discover the elixir vital, or the philosopher's stone, orsome other myth like that, he accidentally found out a method wherebycommon wood charcoal may be crystallized."

  "What!" gasped the schoolmaster, "made into diamonds! Great heavens,how was it done? Tell me quick."

  "He doesn't give it here. This diary was evidently a private one whichhe carried about with him, and it was liable to be destroyed. So hewrote up the Recipe in a quiet place where no one would stumble on it,and where, as he remarks, he could send his heir to if he thought fitto do such a thing. But still, I don't think that there is much fear ofthe secret having been given away. In the first place, we shouldundoubtedly hear of it if any one was manufacturing real diamonds forthe market, as the diamond mines of the world are all known, and theiroutput most strictly re
gulated. And, in the second place, he had astrong reason of his own for not divulging the formula. Listen, andI'll read. 'If,' he says, 'diamonds were made common and cheap so thatthe lower orders of people might obtain them, I can conceive that muchdissension would arise. For the nobles, finding their stored gems tohave become in a sudden of no richness, would be deeply embitteredthereby--they and their woman-kind. And the common folk, being able toflaunt jewels equal to those of their betters, would wax arrogant anddissatisfied; and though being in reality no whit better off thanbefore, would deem themselves the inferiors of none and the superiorsto most; in support of which vain dreams they would strive to their ownsore detriment. For as in the beginning the sons of Adam were equal,and as of their descendants some rose to be of ruling classes throughmental and physical fitness, so if all men were to be levelled againto-day, to-morrow they would be uneven once more, and the next day moreuneven, the weak getting trampled under foot, and the strong fighting ared path upward with their ruthless sword.'"

  "I need hardly inform you," interrupted Weems, "that those crude ideasof political economy are not what we modern thinkers accept. Even JohnStuart--but I will tell you about that afterwards. Please let me hearhow the diamonds are made. Never mind about the other twaddle. It painsone to listen to it."

  "As I told you, the actual Recipe is not in the diary here. Lully wroteit out, so he says, in imperishable form, in a place where he conceivedit would pass down through the centuries absolutely undisturbed. I amnot quite so confident about that as he is, as I know theinquisitiveness of the present generation better than he could imagineit. But to cut the story short, he found a way into one of the Talayotsof Minorca, carved his secret upon the plaster of the interior, hid theentrance again, and came away. He says that the Talayot was believed bythe Minorcans to be solid throughout, and adds that his only confidant,the priest who helped him to gain the internal chamber, died of a fevertwo days afterwards. Then he mentions the name of the spot--Talaiti deTalt, near Mercadal--and says if you dig a man's length down in themiddle of the side facing seaward, you'll come across the entrancepassage. Oddly enough, I've been at Mercadal myself, when a brig I wason was weather-bound in Port Mahon; and though I don't recollect thisTalaiti de Talt, it's very probable I saw it, as we overhauled all theTalayots in the neighbourhood."

  "By the way, what is a Talayot? I'm--ar--sorry to confessignorance----"

  That last made me grin, which he saw, and didn't like a bit. However, Ipulled my face together again, and explained. "'Talayot' is a genericterm for the groups of prehistoric remains which lie all over theisland. There are monoliths, short underground passages, duolithicaltars, and rude pyramids. Talaiti de Talt is evidently one of theselast."

  "Old?"

  "Tolerably. The race of men who put them up were extinct before theEgyptian pyramid-builders came upon the scene."

  "I don't quite see how that can be. You must understand, Mr.Cospatric----"

  "Oh, what does it matter, man? If it pleases you, I'll grant thatCheops and Co. took to architecture first. But, anyway, these Minorcanpyramids were up long before Lully's time, and that's enough for us.The Recipe's there, just waiting to be fetched. We must drink successto this."

  A waitress brought us filled glasses, and we toasted one another. ThenI told Weems openly enough about my financial position, and asked himto advance me enough for passage money. I said I knew the language andthe route and all the rest of it, and the outlay for the pair of uswould be very little more than what it would cost him to go alone. Infact, I was going on to sketch out the trip, and tot up the items ofcost, when he cut me short, and coldly intimated that he did not intendto part with a cent. He did not even plead poverty. He gave no reasonwhatever.

  I stared at him for a minute or so blankly. That he would refuse what Iasked had never occurred to me. At last I blurted out, "Why, good God,man, I needn't have told you about the thing at all. If I'd held mytongue, you know very well you'd have parted with the book in absoluteignorance of what it contained."

  "I might or might not have looked into it, Mr. Cospatric. That is asmay be. But the most ordinary honesty would have compelled you to speakwhen I did. Perhaps I refused your request too abruptly just now.Believe me, I am not ungrateful for the service you have rendered. Infact, I should like to prove my obligation. But I could not have youlabour under the error that you are entitled to a half share ofwhatever profits may accrue. This Recipe is mine, entirely mine, Mr.Cospatric, and it is not likely that I am going to put you in the wayof annexing a share of it. Of course, legally, you have no claim on me;but as you say you are in indigent circumstances, I am willing tostretch a point, and do more than I otherwise should. I will give youthe remainder of my circular ticket. That will take you back toEngland, let me see--via----"

  "You scurvy little blackguard," said I, beginning to lose my temper,"aren't you afraid of being killed?"

  He got very red, and exclaimed pompously, "Don't you attempt bombastwith me, Mr. Cospatric. I am as safe from your personal violence hereas I should be at home."

  "Then," said I, "you must live at a tolerably lively place, for herethere are at least four men knifed every week, and more when things arebrisk."

  "I shall put myself under the protection of the police if you threatenme," said he, evidently beginning to feel a bit uneasy.

  "And I should like to know how the devil you would set about doing thatsame? Why, my blessed rustic, supposing you knew the lingo, which youdon't, and you went up to the local substitute for a bobby, and saidyou wanted to get under his cloak, d'ye know what he'd do? Why, run youin straight away. And in quod you'd stop; there isn't a soul in thecity here who'd say a word for you." Of course all this was a bluff,but I knew the average Briton has an intense belief in officiallawlessness on the Continent, and I thought I'd reckoned up thisspecimen pretty accurately. It looked as if I was right. He changedtack promptly, dropped the dictatorial schoolmaster, and startedfawning. I seemed to have mistaken his motives. As a man of science, henaturally took an intense interest in this Recipe, and wished to havethe administration of it entirely in his own hands. But, of course, Imust have known that as a gentleman he would feel bound to divide anyfortune that might proceed from it equally with me.

  As a point of fact, I hadn't understood this. I had also overlooked theitem that he was a gentleman, and even then did not recognize it. But Ikept these trifles to myself; and as he was evidently trying to burythe hatchet, I got out my spade as well. And for the rest of thatevening we were as civil to one another as a couple of smugglers withone load of bales.

  We were to work the thing together on his coin and my experience, bothof which were equally necessary; and as for the plunder, there'd be abelly-full for the pair of us, and a lot to spare. Thank goodness womenexisted; and as long as they didn't die out, the inhabitants of thisglobe would always buy diamonds, if the market was not over-glutted.

  And we'd start by the train which set off westward along the coast at7.10 the next morning.

  When we get comfortably to Mahon, thought I, I'll tell Mr. Schoolmasterthat the proof of the pudding can be found near the Recipe, for,according to the illustrious doctor's account, he has buried in thefloor of the Talayot a fist-full of diamonds from his own manufactory.But as the little chap seems keen enough already, I'll let that standover for the present. If at any time he wants an extra spur, it willcome in handy.