Of course I wasn't brought up to the business;
I gradually fell into it. I have always been fond of things queer and
rare, and by the time I was twenty I had made half a dozen collections. It is not generally known how often farm laborers come upon rarities;
you would be astonished if I told you what I have seen turned up by the
plough. I lived in the country in those days, and I used to buy anything
the men on the farms brought me; and I had the queerest set of rubbish,
as my friends called my collection. But that's how I got the scent of
the business, which means everything; and, later on, it struck me that I
might very well turn my knowledge to account and add to my income. Since
those early days I have been in most quarters of the world, and some
very valuable things have passed through my hands, and I have had to
engage in difficult and delicate negotiations. You have possibly heard
of the Khan opal--called in the East 'The Stone of a Thousand and One
Colors'? Well, perhaps the conquest of that stone was my greatest
achievement. I call it myself the stone of the thousand and one lies,
for I assure you that I had to invent a cycle of folk-lore before the
Rajah who owned it would consent to sell the thing. I subsidized
wandering story-tellers, who told tales in which the opal played a
frightful part; I hired a holy man, a great ascetic, to prophesy against
the thing in the language of Eastern symbolism; in short, I frightened
the Rajah out of his wits. So you see there is room for diplomacy in
the traffic I am engaged in. I have to be ever on my guard, and I have
often been sensible that unless I watched every step and weighed every
word my life would not last me much longer. Last April I became aware of
the existence of a highly valuable antique gem. It was in Southern
Italy, and in the possession of persons who were ignorant of its real
value. It has always been my experience that it is precisely the
ignorant who are most difficult to deal with. I have met farmers who
were under the impression that a shilling of George I. was a find of
almost incalculable value; and all the defeats I have sustained have
been at the hands of people of this description. Reflecting on these
facts, I saw that the acquisition of the gem I have mentioned would be
an affair demanding the nicest diplomacy; I might possibly have got it
by offering a sum approaching its real value, but I need not point out
to you that such a proceeding would be most unbusinesslike. Indeed, I
doubt whether it would have been successful, for the cupidity of such
persons is aroused by a sum which seems enormous, and the low cunning
which serves them in place of intelligence immediately suggests that the
object for which such an amount is offered must be worth at least
double. Of course, when it is a matter of an ordinary curiosity--an old
jug, a carved chest, or a queer brass lantern--one does not much care;
the cupidity of the owner defeats its object, the collector laughs, and
goes away, for he is aware that such things are by no means unique. But
this gem I fervently desired to possess; and as I did not see my way to
giving more than a hundredth part of its value, I was conscious that
all my, let us say, imaginative and diplomatic powers would have to be
exerted. I am sorry to say that I came to the conclusion that I could
not undertake to carry the matter through single-handed, and I
determined to confide in my assistant, a young man named William
Robbins, whom I judged to be by no means devoid of capacity. My idea was
that Robbins should get himself up as a low-class dealer in precious
stones; he could patter a little Italian, and would go to the town in
question and manage to see the gem we were after, possibly by offering
some trifling articles of jewelry for sale, but that I left to be
decided, then my work was to begin, but I will not trouble you with a
tale told twice over. In due course, then, Robbins went off to Italy
with an assortment of uncut stones and a few rings, and some jewelry I
bought in Birmingham, on purpose for his expedition. A week later I
followed him, travelling leisurely, so that I was a fortnight later in
arriving at our common destination. There was a decent hotel in the
town, and on my inquiring of the landlord whether there were many
strangers in the place, he told me very few; he had heard there was an
Englishman staying in a small tavern, a pedlar he said, who sold
beautiful trinkets very cheaply, and wanted to buy old rubbish. For five
or six days I took life leisurely, and I must say I enjoyed myself. It
was part of my plan to make the people think I was an enormously rich
man; and I knew that such items as the extravagance of my meals, and the
price of every bottle of wine I drank, would not be suffered, as Sancho
Panza puts it, to rot in the landlord's breast. At the end of the week I
was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance of Signor Melini, the
owner of the gem I coveted, at the café, and with his ready hospitality
and my geniality I was soon established as a friend of the house. On my
third or fourth visit I managed to make the Italians talk about the
English pedlar, who, they said, spoke a most detestable Italian. 'But
that does not matter,' said the Signora Melini, 'for he has beautiful
things, which he sells very very cheap.' 'I hope you may not find he has
cheated you,' I said, 'for I must tell you that English people give
these fellows a very wide berth. They usually make a great parade of the
cheapness of their goods, which often turn out to be double the price of
better articles in the shops,' They would not hear of this, and Signora
Melini insisted on showing me the three rings and the bracelet she had
bought of the pedlar. She told me the price she had paid; and after
scrutinizing the articles carefully, I had to confess that she had made
a bargain, and indeed Robbins had sold her the things at about fifty per
cent below market value. I admired the trinkets as I gave them back to
the lady, and I hinted that the pedlar must be a somewhat foolish
specimen of his class. Two days later, as I was taking my vermouth at
the café with Signor Melini, he led the conversation back to the pedlar,
and mentioned casually that he had shown the man a little curiosity, for
which he had made rather a handsome offer. 'My dear sir,' I said, 'I
hope you will be careful. I told you that the travelling tradesman does
not bear a very high reputation in England; and notwithstanding his
apparent simplicity, this fellow may turn out to be an arrant cheat. May
I ask you what is the nature of the curiosity you have shown him?' He
told me it was a little thing, a pretty little stone with some figures
cut on it: people said it was old. 'I should like to examine it,' I
replied; 'as it happens I have, seen a good deal of these gems. We have
a fine collection of them in our museum at London.' In due course I was
shown the article, and I held the gem I so coveted between my fingers.