It was only with one finger of the amber-coloured glove, waggling, that he acknowledged their presence

It was only with one finger of the amber-coloured glove, waggling, that he acknowledged their presence

He swayed slightly as he walked, as the camel at the zoo sways from side to side when it walks along the asphalt paths laden with grocers and their wives eating from paper bags and throwing little bits of silver paper crumpled up on to the path. The camel despises the grocers; the camel is dissatisfied with its lot; the camel sees the blue lake and the fringe of palm trees in front of it. So the great jeweller, the greatest jeweller in the whole world, swung down Piccadilly, perfectly dressed, with his gloves, with his cane; but dissatisfied still, till he reached the dark little shop, that was famous in France, in Germany, in Austria, in Italy, and all over America-the dark little shop in the street off Bond Street.

As usual, he strode through the shop without speaking, though the four men, the two old men, mond and Wicks, stood straight and looked at him, envying him.

Then he unlocked the grating that barred the window. The cries of Bond Street came in; the purr of the distant traffic. The light from reflectors at https://georgiapaydayloans.org/cities/social-circle/ the back of the shop struck upwards. One tree waved six green leaves, for it was June. But Mademoiselle had married Mr. Pedder of the local brewery-no one stuck roses in his buttonhole now.

And he went in and shut the door of his private room behind him

Then he touched a spring in the wall and slowly the panelling slid open, and behind it were the steel safes, five, no, six of them, all of burnished steel. He twisted a key; unlocked one; then another. Each was lined with a pad of deep crimson velvet; in each lay jewels-bracelets, necklaces, rings, tiaras, ducal coronets; loose stones in glass shells; rubies, emeralds, pearls, diamonds. All safe, shining, cool, yet burning, eternally, with their own compressed light.

“Gunpowder enough to blow Mayfair-sky high, high, high!” He threw his head back and made a sound like a horse neighing as he said it. Continue reading “It was only with one finger of the amber-coloured glove, waggling, that he acknowledged their presence”