An African Millionaire: Episodes in the Life of the Illustrious Colonel ClayAllen, Grant
Philosophy
An African Millionaire: Episodes in the Life of the Illustrious Colonel Clay
Allen, Grant
Detective and mystery stories
"The man is a fraud. Not Schleiermacher at all. Just had a wire
from Jena saying the Professor knows nothing about him. Sorry
unintentionally to have caused you trouble. Come round and see me."
"Sorry unintentionally to have caused you trouble." Charles was
beside himself with anger. Sir Adolphus had upset the share-market
for forty-eight mortal hours, half-ruined a round dozen of wealthy
operators, convulsed the City, upheaved the House, and now--he
apologised for it as one might apologise for being late ten minutes
for dinner! Charles jumped into a hansom and rushed round to see
him. How had he dared to introduce the impostor to solid men as
Professor Schleiermacher? Sir Adolphus shrugged his shoulders. The
fellow had come and introduced himself as the great Jena chemist;
he had long white hair, and a stoop in the shoulders. What reason
had _he_ for doubting his word? (I reflected to myself that on much
the same grounds Charles in turn had accepted the Honourable David
Granton and Graf von Lebenstein.) Besides, what object could the
creature have for this extraordinary deception? Charles knew only
too well. It was clear it was done to disturb the diamond market,
and we realised, too late, that the man who had done it was--Colonel
Clay, in "another of his manifold allotropic embodiments!" Charles
had had his wish, and had met his enemy once more in London!
We could see the whole plot. Colonel Clay was polymorphic, like the
element carbon! Doubtless, with his extraordinary sleight of hand,
he had substituted real diamonds for the shapeless mass that came
out of the apparatus, in the interval between handing the pebbles
round for inspection, and distributing them piecemeal to the men of
science and representatives of the diamond interest. We all watched
him closely, of course, when he opened the crucibles; but when once
we had satisfied ourselves that _something_ came out, our doubts were
set at rest, and we forgot to watch whether he distributed those
somethings or not to the recipients. Conjurers always depend upon
such momentary distractions or lapses of attention. As usual, too,
the Professor had disappeared into space the moment his trick was
once well performed. He vanished like smoke, as the Count and Seer
had vanished before, and was never again heard of.
Charles went home more angry than I have ever beheld him. I couldn't
imagine why. He seemed as deeply hipped as if he had lost his
thousands. I endeavoured to console him. "After all," I said,
"though Golcondas have suffered a temporary loss, it's a comfort
to think that you should have stood so firm, and not only stemmed
the tide, but also prevented yourself from losing anything at all
of your own through panic. I'm sorry, of course, for the widows
and orphans; but if Colonel Clay has rigged the market, at least
it isn't YOU who lose by it this time."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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