So I never
answered Elzevir, but took the diamond and slipped it back in the silver
locket, which still hung round my neck, for that was the safest place for
it that we could think of.
We spent some days in wandering round the town making inquiries, and
learnt that most of the diamond-buyers lived near one another in a
certain little street, whose name I have forgotten, but that the richest
and best known of them was one Krispijn Aldobrand. He was a Jew by birth,
but had lived all his life in the Hague, and besides having bought and
sold some of the finest stones, was said to ask few questions, and to
trouble little whence stones came, so they were but good. Thus, after
much thought and many changes of purpose, we chose this Aldobrand, and
settled we would put the matter to the touch with him.
We took an evening in late summer for our venture, and came to
Aldobrand's house about an hour before sundown. I remember the place
well, though I have not seen it for so long, and am certainly never like
to see it again. It was a low house of two stories standing back a little
from the street, with some wooden palings and a grass plot before it, and
a stone-flagged path leading up to the door. The front of it was
whitewashed, with green shutters, and had a shiny-leaved magnolia trained
round about the windows.
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