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Nicky did not forget his visit to the Maison d'Or for a very long time. He would have remembered it longer if I had not found something else for him to think about, and set him going on a job which I shall always look back upon as the boldest we ever undertook in all our years together. It was this job which carried me for the first time in my life to the city of Vienna; and I can recollect, as if it happened yesterday, the night when we arrived there, and played the first card in as big an undertaking as two men ever put their hands to.

They were just beginning to light up the shops in the Graben and the Kohlmarkt, when we found the place we wanted, and stood for a minute, bitter cold as it was, to look at all the pretty things in the windows. Such passers-by as we saw were mostly business folk hurrying home to their dinners. Trade was done for the day, and done early, as it always is in that queen of cities, Vienna. Yet Sir Nicolas and I were at the very start of the greatest venture of our lives.

It seemed odd to me, I will say, to stand there in that old-town street of pretty shops and pretty women, and to remember what an errand bad brought us from Paris to the far end of Europe. Nor, I make sure, did it come home any the less to Sir Nicolas Steele. He had been crying out, ever since we left the Northern station, that failure was dogging our footsteps. He had stopped already before the shops of three jewellers and had refused to go in. And now, when we had found Lobmeyr's, and had only to turn the handle of their door to set the thing in train, what must he do but begin to laugh like a schoolboy and declare he couldn't go on with it.

"Sure," said he, rocking on his heels before the great glass window, "’tis a queer errand, I'm thinking."

"If that's your idea, sir," said I, "it's a pity you didn't stop in Paris. We shall do no good gaping here like schoolboys."

"But what if they won't take my references?"

"Ask me that when they have declined them. Count Horowitz's letter should be good enough for any shopkeeper in Vienna."

"Faith, ye're right there! but you forget that they might wire to Rome to confirm it."

"And if they do, what then? How's he to know that you're calling yourself Count Laon, or that the real Count Laon is in Paris? He'll think he's come here sudden and wants a word."

"That's true," said he, becoming very serious and even a bit nervous, I thought—"that's true; and I may very well pass for a Frenchman. Would you be asking for the big diamonds at once?"

"Certainly I would, sir. There's nothing to be got by beating about the bush. Say it's a commission from London. That and your letter will be enough."

He heard me out, still hesitating.

"Don't you think we'd do better in the morning?" he whispered, with his hand on the door of the shop.

"Sir," said I, for I knew the time had come when it must be neck or nothing, "if you want to turn your back on ten thousand pounds, which you can have almost for the asking, my advice is that you take the next train back to Paris."

"Well," said he, turning the handle suddenly, "you're a bold man, and ye've got the devil's own head on your shoulders. Bedad! I'll go through with it, if it lands the pair of us in the town jail before the morning."

He said this, and the next moment we were in the shop. It was a smallish place, so to speak, for such a man as Lobmeyr, who's talked of as the biggest diamond merchant in Vienna; but you could see with half an eye that there was valuable stuff under the glass cases, and there was the suggestion of solidity in the very chairs. I hadn't been in the house ten seconds when I marked a couple of rubies which would have fetched a thousand pounds apiece in Bond Street, and as for diamonds, they were there as big as nuts, and of a quality which made the whole shop a perfect sparkle of dazzling lights. I saw at once that we should get what we wanted; and I waited for. Sir Nicolas to speak to the bald-headed little man, who bowed and scraped directly he set eyes on us, and did nothing else for the next ten minutes.

My master spoke in French, and though there were things that I could not follow, I had not been in Paris all those months without getting a bit of a grip on the lingo. I was anxious enough, you may understand, that Sir Nicolas should carry himself with confidence; but I must say that directly he had passed the shop-door he played the game like a man.

"Good-evening," said he. "I am the Comte de Laon, and have an introduction to Herr Lobmeyr from my friend Count Horowitz. Is it possible to see him to-night?"

"Perfectly," replied the other; "he is at this moment in his office."

"Then pray present this note to him, and say that the Comte de Laon and Sir Nicolas Steele of London would be glad of ten minutes' conversation with him."

You must know that we had arranged this tale on our way from France. He was to be the Comte de Laon; I was to be Sir Nicolas Steele. I had seen the young count chumming a good deal in Paris with the Austrian Horowitz, and I had put Sir Nicolas Steele up to the idea that he should get a letter of introduction from the Austrian to two or three people in Vienna. Once we were in possession of the document (and Horowitz gave it readily enough, although he knew nothing about Nicolas Steele, except that he was the best whip in the city), it was easy enough to scrape out the name of the party whom it favored, and to put in another name. The name we chose was that of Comte de Laon. I will tell you why presently.

So soon as we were in the private office, and face to face with Lobmeyr, I began to reckon up my man. That he was no fool was to be seen with half an eye. His head was long and well-balanced; his eyes were small and keen; he had whiskers which were just turning gray, and those big hands which stamp a man of commanding character. And he didn't bow or scrape like the other chap in the shop, but put on his glasses and read our letter through from end to end before he said a word. I watched him like a cat watches a mouse, and when he stuck for a minute in one place, my heart was in my mouth. But presently he handed the letter back to Sir Nicolas, and the smile on his face told me that all was well.

"Of course," said he, and I'm sure his French wasn't any better than mine, "Count Horowitz is known to me, and any friend of his is welcome. In what way can I be of service to the Comte de Laon?"

"You can sell me a diamond," cried Sir Nicolas, leaning back in his chair like a man who is doing another a favor.

"That is very easily done," said Lobmeyr. "I wish all those who brought letters of introduction to me came upon the same errand. Are you seeking a single stone or a set?"

"I am seeking a single stone, Brazilian if possible, quite white, circular in shape, and weighing not less than fifty carats."

The effect of this speech upon the man was as funny as any thing I ever saw. No sooner were the words out of my master's mouth than Lobmeyr wheeled round his chair and let his spectacles drop upon his knees.

"Fifty carats!" exclaimed he. "Oh, my dear sir, you might go half round Europe and not get such a stone as you seek!"

"Exactly, that is what I said to myself when I was asked by the person whose agent I am to find him such a diamond. 'There are only two houses likely to have so fine a thing,' said I; 'one is Streeter's of London, the other is Lobmeyr's of Vienna.' It is not possible for me to be in London this winter; therefore I go to Lobmeyr."

The man smiled again. He had begun to take the bait like a pike takes a roach.

"Well," said he, "I must justify your confidence in me. I have no diamond in the house which cor- responds exactly to your description, but I have a stone weighing forty-six carats, of which there is no equal in Europe. We call it the Golden Fleece. If you will wait a moment I will show it to you."

Saying this, he swung himself round in his chair again, and opened the great safe which stood behind him. When ten seconds had passed Sir Nicolas had the diamond in his hand, and the whole room seemed full of the sparkle of its lights. So bright, for a fact, was the stone, so magnificent, and of such a size, that even I lost my head at the sight of it, and stood gaping like a child at a wonder. It was just as if the man had taken a fortune from his safe and put it into our hands.

Sir Nicolas was the first to remember himself, and when he did so, he began to speak in such rapid French that I could not follow him. After a bit, however, he checked himself, and then I heard him say:

"In all things except size, it is the diamond I am seeking. Whether size would be a vital objection, the person who commissions me alone could say. He is to meet me to-morrow night at eight o'clock at the Hôtel Métropole. If you will bring the stone there, you shall have a 'yes' or 'no' in ten minutes."

"Are you staying in the hotel?"

"No, I have an apartment for the winter in the Singer Strasse, No. 16, so that we are almost neighbors. But my friend will be at the Métropole to-morrow night, and with your permission we will then take his opinion of the Golden Fleece. The price you said——"

"Is one hundred thousand florins."

"Ten thousand pounds," said Sir Nicolas, turning to me, and handing me the stone; "do you find it dear?"

I looked at it for some moments through a glass I had brought with me for the purpose. Then I said, in English:

"It is a thousand pounds more than it is worth."

Lobmeyr, it proved,—and this was very lucky for us,—did not understand a word of our own language.

"This gentleman here," cried Sir Nicolas, pointing to me, "who is one of the finest judges in the world of Brazilian stones, is of the opinion that you are asking ten thousand florins too much."

"In that case, M. le Comte, it would be for you to make me an offer of ten thousand florins less. Like all business men, I am open to offers, though I do not say that I will accept them. The diamond I am showing you is the first of its kind in Europe. For exquisite color and shape, for quality generally, I could hardly match it if you gave me a month for the task. It will remain for me to say yes or no when you are prepared to bid for it."

He said it all very sweetly, and when he had done, and the diamond was locked up in the safe again, we arranged for him to bring it to the Hôtel Métropole on the following evening at eight o'clock, and there to ask for the Comte de Laon. Then we got out of his shop, and only when we were under the shadow of the church of St. Stephen did either of us breathe freely again.

"Well," said Sir Nicolas, speaking first, "if Count Laon ever gets to hear that I took his name in Vienna, he'll be admitting that I did him credit. Bedad! I'm just proud of myself."

"You've the right to be that, sir," said I; "and as for Count Laon hearing any thing about it, why should be? He was at his place in Normandy a week ago. I don't suppose there's any thing in the air just now to bring him to Vienna."

"Gospel truth you speak there, and 'tis only for twenty-four hours that we shall be wanting it. Midnight to-morrow should see us out of Vienna."

"With ten thousand pounds in our pockets, and no harm done to any one, sir."

"The devil a bit! Oh, it was a lucky day when you told me to write the history of a diamond—that is, if Benjamin King doesn't draw back. You never know quite whether you've got a Yankee by the tail, or whether he's got you by the teeth. But I've no doubts myself but what he'll buy."

"Nor me, either, sir. They say he never refused to buy a diamond with a history yet."

"And sure, was there ever a better history written than the one we put in the Figaro—about a stone that didn't exist, too? Man, it was a colossal notion of yours. If ye don't mind, we'll be off to drink a glass of wine to the health of it."

I had no objection to this, you may imagine; nor could I gainsay him when he declared that the whole thing was my idea. Mine the plan was, mine all through, and never a prettier one born, I'll swear. For, you see, what had brought us from Paris to Vienna was this—we had come to sell to Benjamin King, the American bacon merchant, a diamond which did not exist. How the thing came about is told in a few words. I happened to read one day in Galignan's Messenger that King had a weakness for collecting historical jewelry. They said he would buy any diamond with a history; and no sooner had I seen the paragraph than I got the notion.

"By the Lord Harry," said I to myself, "you've only got to make up a sham story to palm off on this joker any rubbishy stone at twice its price. Your yarn must be well done, of course, and must have the look of truth about it. But given a steady head and plenty of cheek, there's thousands in the deal."

Well, this was my first inkling of it, but as the day went on, I found the notion working me up into a perfect fever. The more I thought of it, the more money there seemed in it. I convinced myself that you'd only got to plan the thing on a large enough scale to make a fortune. King was a millionnaire; he was in Paris; it was ten to one he would swallow a tempting bait. "If," said I, "we can buy a stone for one thousand and sell it to him for two, there's a thousand pounds. Or, again, if we can buy a stone for ten thousand and sell it to him for twenty because of the sham history we're going to make up about it—where are. we then? Why, ten thousand to the good, and nobody but a swindling old bacon merchant a penny the worse." The idea was colossal, as Sir Nicolas said. It remained only for cool heads and steady nerves to go through with it.

Three days after this notion came to me, there appeared in the Paris Figaro a little bit of news which I never should have heard in the ordinary way, but which I read greedily enough under the circumstances. I say that I read it; I should say, perhaps, that I made it out word by word, and chuckled over it like a boy reading his first love-letter. The fact was that Sir Nicolas himself had written it, first in English, then in French; and had sent it along to the paper by one of the writing chaps he used to meet in the Hotel de Lille. It was a short paragraph, but more than enough for our purposes; and as it is necessary to my story, I print the English of it here;

"A MISSING MAZARIN

"Sir Nicolas Steele, whose devotion to every form of le sport has won him the affections of many Parisians, is likely, they say, shortly to offer for sale here a famous white diamond, the history of which is scarcely less eventful than that of the old 'Sancy' stone itself. This is one of the diamonds which Diana of Poictiers wore—one of those stones which Mazarin took, with the 'Mirror of Portugal,' from the Duke of Epernon, to whom they had been sold by Henrietta of France. It will be remembered that the old 'Sancy' stone was stolen in the year 1791. Sir Nicolas Steele has documentary evidence, dating back to the earliest years of the century, that the diamond he now possesses was one of those taken by the mob who sacked the Treasury in the first days of the Revolution. Apart from its most interesting historical associations, the gem is a very fine one, weighing nearly fifty carats, and possessing a lustre only to be found in the choicest treasures of the Brazilian mines."

This is what Sir Nicolas wrote after he had given twenty-four hours' thought to the matter; and I will say that there never was a man who entered into a thing more willingly, or with more spirit.

"Hildebrand," said he, "’tis the idea of a life-time, no less. There's only one corner which frightens me. Where will you be getting your diamond if King takes the bait?"

"You leave that to me, sir," said I. "It's queer if you can't buy a fifty-carat stone somewhere in Paris. And you won't buy it in your own name either. If King came to hear, not only that you were selling diamonds, but buying them, we should have to put up the shutters."

"Ye see far," cried he; "there's few men would have planned it. Yet even now 'tis not all straight to me. You must remember that we've no credit in the place, and who'll be lending us fifty-carat diamonds on our bare word? That's what you're wanting."

"I'm not wanting any thing of the kind, sir," said I. "If this Yankee tumbles into the trap—and the documents we're preparing would deceive the devil himself—he'll either buy or not buy. If he buys, he'll write you a check there and then. You'll have the money in twenty-four hours, and your jeweller will have this. It's strange if he won't wait that long when he hears the tale you can tell, ay, better than any man in Paris."

He began to be convinced at this, and for six days and nights we worked like niggers, getting old musty parchments from Castle Rath, my master's place in Ireland, and writing into them a sham account of the supposed Mazarin diamond. By the time we'd done, we had a pile which would have satisfied all the judges in France; and then only did we communicate with Benjamin King, who was staying at the Hotel Windsor. He replied, by a messenger, saying that he was sorry to miss the opportunity of seeing so famous a diamond, but business compelled him to leave Paris for Vienna that very evening, and he might not be in the city again for three months.

"Was there ever such luck on God's earth?" cried Sir Nicolas, when he heard this tale. "That we should lose him by twenty-four hours! It's enough to make a man shoot himself."

"No such thing, sir," said I. "What is to be done in Paris is to be done in Vienna. For the matter of that, you'll buy the diamond easier there than here, and there won't be so much risk in taking another name. What's to stop you telling King that you also must be in Vienna, say, in a fortnight's time, and will call upon him there? The job's worth the money, any way."

Well, he thought it over, and fourteen days after this talk we found ourselves in the Austrian capital, and at Lobmeyr's shop, as I have told you. Why Sir Nicolas took the name of the Comte de Laon, you know now. To put it short, we meant to buy the diamond in that name, and to sell it in our own. The count was the intimate friend of Horowitz, a well-known man in Vienna, though then at Rome. We had got letters of introduction from Horowitz, who spent part of his summer holidays in Paris, and we had altered them so that they no longer recommended Nicolas Steele but the Comte de Laon. And armed with these, we began our dealings with Lobmeyr, as you have seen; and it remained only to sell the Golden Fleece to Benjamin King as the identical diamond which Mazarin bought from the Duke of Epernon..

You may ask, and naturally, what were the risks we ran in this, the greatest job of all our lives. I can tell you almost in a word. The risks were two—viz. (1) That Lobmeyr might find out that we were buying a diamond in Vienna under a sham name, and refuse to let the stone go out of his possession; (2) that King might learn the same thing, and decline to believe in our documents. In either case, a visit from the police would be likely to follow the discovery. It is to be understood, therefore, that we preferred private apartments in the Singer Strasse to the publicity of an hotel, and that we had no intention of remaining more than forty-eight hours in Vienna if luck would play the game for us in that time.

It was to our private apartments that we turned when we left the shop in the Graben, and began to see how we stood. So far, fortune was with us. We had found the diamond, we had caught our man. If all went well we might settle with King on the following evening, and be off to Paris again by the midnight train. And if it turned out like that, I knew that we should carry away five thousand apiece as the profit of the venture.

You may imagine that the next twenty-four hours were anxious ones. I went up to the Métropole in the morning and engaged a room in the name of Sir Nicolas Steele, saying that he would dine at the hotel with his friend, the Comte de Laon. That carried out our idea of having two names in Vienna. If any one said to Sir Nicolas, "You are not the Comte de Laon," he had only to point to me; if any one said to me, "You are not Sir Nicolas Steele," I had only to point to my master. For the matter of that, a big hotel is far too busy looking after its guests to be bothering about the identity of people; and no one asked me a single question when I booked the room and ordered the dinner, to which we had already invited Benjamin King, the bacon merchant.

Punctually at seven o'clock that night the three of us sat down to table—Sir Nicolas, King, and myself. My master was clever enough to monopolize most of the conversation, giving it out that I spoke French only; and lucky for me, King's daughter, a pretty little thing I'd seen in Paris, had gone off to the theatre with some friends. I could hold my tongue in her absence, and leave Sir Nicolas to do the blarney, which he did in his own pretty way. King was a big, coarse-made man with a rasping Chicago accent on him; and I think that he was not a little pleased at sitting down with a real Irish baronet and a supposed French count—for, in all our dealings with him, I took the name Comte de Laon, while at the jeweller's I was always Sir Nicolas Steele. Any way, he was civil enough, and when the cigars were lit, he began to talk about the diamond.

"Wal," cried he, "and where's your bull's eye, Sir Nicolas. Out with it! Eh, count,"—and here he turned to me,—"you've heard of the marble he carries in his pocket? Belonged to one of the French queens, he says—Dianner or somebody."

"Indeed, and there's no doubt of it," says my master. "Diana of Poictiers wore it upon her own pretty neck, and so did our own Henrietta. There's no more question that it's a Mazarin than that I am Nicolas Steele of Castle Rath. Ye'll have read the papers, Mr. King?"

"That's so; me and my daughter read 'em yesterday. We haven't got the dust off our hands yet."

"Then you know all I can tell you?"

"I guess we do, and I'm waiting to see your bit of glass. What was the figure you named?"

"One hundred thousand dollars," said my master, without turning a hair. "I'd sooner throw it into the Danube than sell it for less."

"It's a long price," said King, looking serious. "A man must cut a hole in pigs to buy his diamonds at that figure."

"He can buy them for half the sum, if he cares nothing for their history," cried Sir Nicolas quickly. "This stone has no second, but the great Sancy diamond, in all Europe. It has helped to make history; in one way it is priceless."

"Then show it and have done with it," says King, in a mighty proud way.

"There is nothing easier," says my master, "though it is too valuable to carry like a watch in the pocket. My friend Comte de Laon, here, has it at his bankers'. His man is coming up to the hotel at eight o'clock. It should be that and more, now."

With this he turned and said something in rapid French. While I did not understand him, I bowed and smiled as I had been doing all dinner-time; and at that very moment a waiter announced that a gentleman wished to see the Comte de Laon.

We rose together, Sir Nicolas and I; and one quick glance passed between us. Then he turned to King—

"If ye'll sit here for the half of a minute," says he, "you shall hold the stone in your fingers."

"There's no hurry," says King, leaning back in his chair, "though I'd be glad of a green cigar, I guess."

"The waiter shall bring you one," says Sir Nicolas at the door; and with that he pulled me into the passage.

"Remember," cried he in a whisper, directly the door had shut upon us, "we change names again."

"Should I be likely to forget?" says I—and that was all, for the next minute we were down stairs, and the diamond was in Sir Nicolas's hand.

They had shown Lobmeyr into a little room at the side of the dining-hall. I can see him now, wrapped from head to foot in a heavy sable coat, his little eyes dancing like stars as they tried to read us up. He had brought the Golden Fleece in a beautiful shagreen case, and there never was a prettier thing to see than that diamond, I'll stake my life. But events were moving too fast for me to pay any attention to it then, and I was all ears for the talk between the two. One false step, one silly word—and the trick would be blown to the winds. It remained to control our tongues as if curbs of iron held them. Nor, to give Sir Nicolas his due, did he waste any words.

"Before we come to the important question of price, Herr Lobmeyr," said he, after the usual compliments had passed between them, "I'd be glad if I may take the opinion of the friend for whom I am acting in this case. He's at table upstairs, and his judgment and that of other friends with me will help to decide. You will permit me, I am sure, to show the jewel?"

He said this and I felt my heart begin to thump like any thing. If Lobmeyr refused to let the stone go out of his possession, we were done. And he did not give in any too readily. I saw his eyes searching the pair of us through and through. Only after a long pause did he bow an unwilling assent, and Sir Nicolas went off upon the errand which meant all to us.

What passed in the minutes during which he was gone I can't quite tell you. I, for my part, was so excited that I could hardly sit on my chair. As for Lobmeyr, I guessed by his looks that he didn't half like the job. And this was running in my head all the time, that he might refuse to leave the stone behind him until he had the cash in his hand. Possibly Benjamin King might buy the diamond and promise to pay for it next day. If we had to make a fuss, if once King met Lobmeyr and the two understood each other, the bubble would be pricked for good and all; and the sooner we cleared out of Vienna the better. And this thought made me hot and cold in turns. "We must find some way," said I, "to shut his mouth—must give him some security." Yet, what security had we? Nothing but a check-book and our cheek.

All this was in my mind, and I was turning it over and over, pretending at the same time to listen to Lobmeyr's talk, when Sir Nicolas came back again. He had left the diamond behind him, but his looks told me in a minute what had happened. "We have lost the throw," said I to myself; and at this my heart seemed to sink into my boots. As for Lobmeyr, when he saw that his diamond was not in my master's hand, he rose up quick from his chair just as if we had tried to rob him.

"Well," said he, and there was a power of meaning in his tone—"well, M. le Comte, and what do your friends say?"

"That we must have a week to answer you definitely, but that, if we accept the stone, the price you ask will be paid."

The man heard him out, his features gradually relaxing in a smile.

"Nothing could be fairer," said he; "you have only to return me the diamond."

"Ah!" exclaimed. Sir Nicolas carelessly, "I should have explained to you that we are not alone in so large a venture as this. We have others to consult, and we propose that you leave the stone with us until we have their answer."

At this request, the whole look on Lobmeyr's face changed instantly. His eyes seemed to dart fire.

"M. le Comte," said he, "I do not leave this hotel without my diamond or the money for it."

He spoke the words slowly and firmly—but, to me hearing them, they came like a thunderclap. It was just as if he had snatched five thousand pounds from my hands and pitched them out of the window. What to do, what to say, I could not think. I simply stood and stared, imitating my master, whose tongue seemed stuck to his mouth. Meanwhile, Lobmeyr was beginning to work himself up—he raised his voice until you might have heard him on the "third" of the hotel.

"I say that I will not leave the stone," he repeated. "Return it to me or pay me! I will wait here until I receive the money: I will not be put off——"

He went on like this, just as foreigners will, and really, at one time, I thought he would send for the police on the spot. What with his talk and the talk of Sir Nicolas, who argued and pleaded until he was black in the face, we might have been in a brawl at a fair. But the hullaballoo saved us, for they were in the very middle of it when the idea came to me—

"Offer him a check on the Bank of England," whispered I to Sir Nicolas in a pause; "he'll take that quick enough—a check to be cashed this day week, if we buy."

I said the words, and acting upon them, I pulled out my check-book—for we always had a bit of an account at the Bank—and wrote a check for ten thousand pounds, signing it "Nicolas Babbington Steele," my master's full name. Then I passed it over, without comment, to Lobmeyr.

But I knew that he would take it, for an Englishman's check is still as good as gold in Vienna; and five minutes after the idea came to me, he was out of the hotel, and my master was capering about the room like a village lad with a sugar-stick.