"Maxwell Grant - The Shadow - 040 - The Death Triangle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Grant Maxwell)

"You understand," resumed Sparkles, "that I am willing to make a great sacrifice in disposing of these
jewels. That is why I did not want it noised about that they were for sale. I did not want to be annoyed
by troublesome bargain hunters."

"Certainly not," agreed the old physician.

"Of course," continued Sparkles, "I am interested in only cash transactions."

Doctor Arberg looked up from the table. A smile appeared amid the white beard. Reaching in his
pocket, the physician drew forth a thick bundle of bank notes. Sparkles stared as he saw bills of
five-hundred and thousand-dollar denominations.

"This will cover more than I intend to purchase," remarked Arberg. "I have plenty of money with me -
and I always buy with cash. Always, yess."

The words came in well-pronounced English, which was just a trifle thick in tone. Before Sparkles could
reply, Arberg thrust the roll back in his pocket and indicated the jewels with a sweep of his hand.

"There iss only one trouble, yess," he asserted. "These gems have value, but there is something about
them that I do not like. You understand, yess?"

Sparkles shook his head.

"They are not like a collection," argued Arberg. "Not one bit, no. They are like many gems which might
have been taken from here and there. Like stolen gems, you understand -"

Sparkles stared coldly at the physician. He felt ill at case as he met Arberg's steady eyes. Sparkles did
not like the old man's expression.

"These jewels," declared the crook, "are not stolen. I have collected them regardless of their history.
Their value depends upon their own merits. I am sorry, Doctor Arberg, if they do not interest you."

THE crook shifted in his chair. He was just about to glance toward the kitchen door when Arberg caught
his eye with an odd gesture. Extending his left hand, the physician displayed a gleaming ring upon his third
finger. Sparkles looked in wonder at a beautiful opal which glimmered with ever-changing hues.

"This stone," remarked Arberg, "iss my favorite. See it - a rare girasol. Once it belonged to the Russian
czar who -"

Sparkles Lorskin was staring at the gem. Its glow, changing from maroon to mauve, was fascinating.
Sparkles did not notice Arberg's right hand, which rested beneath the old man's coat. The crook, thinking
this the perfect opportunity, signaled with his fingers.

Without moving his head, he peered upward to see Mitts Cordy stealing through the door, revolver in
hand. His gaze went back to the girasol.

It was then that Doctor Arberg acted in a most surprising manner. The old physician's keen eyes had
seen Lorskin's signal. They saw the crook's gaze turn downward. Arberg's right hand came from beneath
his coat, carrying an automatic. At the same time, his left hand shot for Lorskin's arm.