I Break Three Times Into Diamonds 155
I
knew him by name. He was a dabbler in many things, considered a
well-to-do man. This would-be diamond merchant was a short stocky
figure with waxed moustache and a fund of good stories. He said to me
at once: "I have watched you for a long time. I believe you are the man
for me. Money talks. I am prepared to trust you. I want you to buy
diamonds with my money and split profits fifty-fifty."
Well,
it was not all quite so simple as all that, but in the end I agreed to
some such arrangement. I wanted the money put into my own bank, but he
insisted on a bank in the City where he had certain discounting
facilities. After all, it was his money, I thought, and so what he said
went. Unfortunately, after I had bought a few parcels of diamonds and
sold them at a good profit, and was beginning to think that the word
"diamond" had a musical sound, the unforeseen happened.
One day Brodnik turned up at the office looking worried. "Trouble for you," he said sadly.
"What trouble?" said I.
"Your
bank has closed its doors this morning." He mentioned the
establishment where he had deposited my diamond working capital.
"Your bank, you mean," I corrected him.
"Not mine," he said even more sadly. "My account there don't matter a peapod. I'm overdrawn at that bank for forty pounds. Don't you worry about me. Well, what are you going to do about it? I'm looking to you for my money."
Brodnik was my old man of the sea for some time, until
