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“Wait a minute,” said Dustin sharply. “How do the synthetic ones differ from the real?”

“Hardly at all,” Voorland assured him. “Indeed, the artificial product is actually purer chemically than the natural stone. Specific gravity is practically the same, and the indices of refraction and bi-refringence show striking agreement.”

“Then how does anyone know whether a ruby is real or artificial?” demanded Dustin.

“Most people don’t,” Voorland told him smilingly. “Although careful examination by an expert will generally reveal minute differences. The method of manufacture, for instance, causes the synthetic stones to split parallel to the long axis which throws the vertical crystallographic axis in the plane of splitting. Hence, it is difficult to orient them so as to give the best color. Also, every synthetic stone shows traces of dichroism when examined through the table. Natural stones are properly oriented, and thus not dichroic.”

“But that’s all stuff for experts,” Dustin protested. “The average person won’t go around examining my wife’s rubies with a magnifying glass.”

“True enough,” agreed Voorland. “And that is one of the reasons why this bracelet I have just showed you is absolutely unique.” He pressed the top of the leather case down gently to hide the jewels from view.

“Why?” asked Shayne, who had been listening with interest. “Because the synthetic stones don’t show up with cracks like those you’re so proud of?”

Mr. Voorland popped another stick of gum in his mouth and smiled tolerantly at the detective. “I know you mean that to be funny, Mike, but the truth is, you’ve hit the nail on the head. Asterism is an accident or phenomenon which occurs only in natural stones and then very rarely. Authorities even disagree on what causes those rays of converging light. Some believe the effect due to inclusions, or to a lattice-like structure within the mineral. Others hold that there are minute tubular cavities within the stone. No one actually knows.”

“Do you mean no one has ever cut one open to find out?” Shayne asked incredulously.

“Cut open an Asteria? Would you cut your child open to find out what makes its heart beat?”

“If I follow you,” said Dustin slowly, “you claim that anyone who sees this bracelet will know the stones are genuine just because they have that star inside them?”

“Anyone who knows anything at all about precious stones,” Voorland assured him. He picked up the closed jewel case carefully. “It is one absolute test. If you’ll pardon me a moment I’ll show you what I have in synthetic stones and-”

“Not so fast,” Dustin said quietly. “A man would think you didn’t want to sell that bracelet.”

Voorland halted a few steps from him. He hesitated a moment, sighed, and returned to replace the leather case on the table. “I’m afraid that for a moment I allowed myself to hope-” he confessed ruefully.

Shayne laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “I always wondered how you managed to stay in business. Like Omar, you don’t know what on earth to buy one half so precious as the stuff you sell.”

“There’s a great deal of truth in that quatrain,” said Walter Voorland sadly. He turned his attention to Dustin, who had reopened the case and was seated beside his wife fitting the linked bracelet over her slim wrist.

It fitted perfectly, and when he closed the safety clasp she lifted her arm and turned it slowly to strike crimson flashes of reflected fire from the red stones.

Mark Dustin nodded and said, “I think it looks right nice, Ceil. Good enough for your second wedding anniversary?”

“Oh, Mark!” She flung her arms around his neck and sobbed happily. Shayne felt Lucy’s fingers tighten on his arm. He looked down at her and was surprised to see two tears rolling down her cheeks as she gazed at the embracing couple.

He got out his handkerchief and wiped her face and asked, “What the devil are you crying about?”

She said, “They’re so darned sweet. And after being married two whole years.”

Dustin untangled himself from his wife’s arms and told Voorland cheerfully, “She seems to like the gadget, so I guess that settles it. How much?”

“A hundred and eighty thousand dollars,” said Mr. Voorland, and munched on his wad of gum contentedly.

Mark Dustin sat very still and wrinkled his sun-bronzed forehead. “I guess I don’t hear very well.”

Mr. Voorland appeared to be enjoying himself completely. He repeated, “One hundred and eighty thousand dollars is the price of the bracelet. Plus tax, of course.”

“Now I know star rubies wouldn’t look good on you,” Shayne said to Lucy with a broad grin.

Celia Dustin’s face had gone white. She murmured, “That’s ridiculous, Mark. That’s a fortune.” She began nervously picking at the safety catch on the bracelet about her wrist.

He said, “Maybe it isn’t ridiculous, honey. Let’s don’t go off half-cocked.” He asked Voorland, “Is that an asking price or a selling price?”

Voorland seated himself in his favorite attitude, with both hands on his knees. “It is a selling price-as of today. I assure you that if the gem market were not at low ebb the price would be above two hundred thousand.”

“Six stones?” asked Dustin suspiciously. “The largest one eight carats?”

“Eight and a quarter,” Voorland corrected him.

“But diamonds aren’t worth-”

“Diamonds,” said Voorland with a smile, “are worth only what the buyer will pay for them. Rubies are appraised exactly the same way. An eight-carat diamond is not at all unusual. An eight-carat star ruby is an act of God. You know something about prices, Mike. Tell Mr. Dustin I’m not out of line.”

“I don’t know.” Shayne scowled. “I’m not stooging to help you make a sale. A hundred and eighty grand took my breath away just as it did his. But I don’t know.” His scowl deepened. “I remember something Randolph, the insurance appraiser, once told me about rubies. That a perfect four-carat ruby was worth at least four times as much as a diamond of the same size.”

“And he wasn’t talking about a star ruby either, Mike. Just a good pigeon’s-blood gem. You don’t have to make up your mind at once, Mr. Dustin. If you wish to take a little time to think it over-”

Dustin drew in a long breath. “Today is our anniversary. Not tomorrow or next week. I’ll tell you, Shayne’s mention of an insurance appraiser gives me an idea. You realize I’m not questioning your honesty, Voorland, but I know nothing about such things and-”

“I understand perfectly, Mr. Dustin. You’d like to request a disinterested appraisal before making up your mind.”

“Yes. Someone like an insurance appraiser. That’s a splendid idea. I’ll have to have it insured if I do buy. What portion of the appraised value do those people generally write coverage on?” he asked Shayne.

“Up to eighty percent. Sometimes more. Depending on the reputation of the dealer, the current market, things like that.”

Voorland nodded approvingly. “In general cases, you are quite correct, Mike. But this isn’t a general case. This bracelet is unique and therefore practically priceless. I’m ready to stake my professional reputation that any reputable insurance company will be glad to issue you a policy covering the full purchase price.”

“That’s good enough for me. You’ve made a sale if you can fix up a policy on that basis.”

Mr. Voorland chuckled and smacked over his gum. “Is Earl Randolph in town, Mike?”

“I saw him a couple of days ago.”

“Mr. Randolph is one of the shrewdest appraisers in the business,” Voorland told Dustin. “I showed him this bracelet two months ago when I was holding it at two hundred thousand, and he asked for a chance to write a policy on it when I sold it. I’ll get hold of him at once and I’m sure we’ll have no difficulty.”

“In that case, I presume you’d like to have a little cash on the line.” Mark Dustin’s voice was strained, as though he realized for the first time what he was letting himself in for. He reached in a side pocket of his slacks, adding, “Naturally, I don’t carry that kind of cash around with me.”