As Mr. Parker sat back and with deliberation lit the big black Corona, which his host had given him, he felt as much at ease as can a man who has dined well and knows that his affairs are prospering beyond all expectations, and, as his eyes half closed, he listened dreamily while his host, for the hundredth time, told yarns of the diamond fields, he silently congratulated himself on his astuteness in having employed so successful a messenger. He had not yet had an opportunity to ask any questions about the diamonds. He had his own reasons for not wanting those present to learn too much of his plans. There would be plenty of time when he could get the vice-president alone. So he just sat back and puffed his cigar, while around him went on the hum of conversation, punctuated here and there with bursts of laughter. Considering his short stay at the diamond mines it was astonishing how well stocked their host was with stories. To hear him talk one might have thought he had been a miner all his life. Stimulated by copious draughts of champagne, which he contrived to make flow like water, he was highly interesting, and his listeners, greatly interested, hung on to every word. "It must be a terrible life!" said Steell, as he lit another cigar. The host emptied his glass and again refilled it before he answered: "It's a life of a dog--not of a human being. The toil is incessant, the profit doubtful. You starve to death: good food is unprocurable save at prohibitive prices. One sleeps practically in the open, save for such rude shelter as each man can make for himself. The flies are a pest and constant source of danger. The water is abominable." "You like champagne better, eh?" laughed Ray. The gambler had already drunk more than was good for him, and, raising his glass in a mock toast, began to hum the first lines of a familiar camp ditty: "_La femme qui sait me plaire C'est la petite veuve Clicquot._" "Is there much stealing of diamonds by the miners?" demanded Mr. Parker. Handsome nodded. "Lots of it. They have to watch 'em all the time. They resort to all kinds of tricks to conceal stones they find. They used to swallow them, but when they were forced to take powerful emetics and other drugs, they soon got tired of that game. They also try to smuggle them across the border line. One detective, who had been for months on the trail of a well-to-do smuggler, was badly stung. The man invited him to go shooting, and kindly furnished guns and cartridges. The unsuspecting policeman carried the cartridges across the border, never dreaming that each one was filled with diamonds." Ray clapped her hands. "Oh, what a clever idea!" The host nodded approvingly. "That's what I thought. Any man as smart as that deserved to get away with it." Mr. Parker protested. "Rogues are always smart!" he exclaimed. "Until they're caught," laughed Dick Reynolds. "Then they don't think they're so smart." Mr. Steell nodded approval.