rogue
of a French chemist managed to extract a considerable sum of money
from the diamond-making process; but not by making genuine diamonds,
merely by "telling the tale" to a great diamond magnate and coaxing the
shekels from his well-buttoned pocket.
The
Frenchman claimed that he could produce good-sized diamonds in the
laboratory. With unerring psychological insight he approached a man
already so rich that a further accretion of wealth could cause him no
thrill. Such a man could be touched by only one appeal—the threat of
losing what he already had. All his money was in diamonds. He was thus
an easier mark than you or I would have been, and a little sleight of
hand did the rest. It was money for jam until the magnate chose to test
the process for himself. Then he brought the cheat into court and the
whole diamond trade rocked with laughter. If I had been that magnate I
should have bought the impostor's silence for a large sum!
I
wonder how many of those fortunate people who can afford to wear
diamonds know how many facets there are in a brilliant, and how those
facets are distributed? Not a great many, I expect, for most people are
not particularly observant in small matters (or even in large ones,
often).
Even
the average dealer in gems and professional jeweller, who might be able
to answer unhesitatingly and correctly that there are in all
fifty-eight facets in a full-cut standard representative brilliant,
might not be able to give the technical names of them. Now, if you look
at a brilliant carefully, you will see that the stone is divided
