Mr Kelada, as was his habit, rushed the new topic.
He told us all that was to be known about pearls.
I do not believe Ramsay knew anything about them at all, but he could not resist the opportunity to have a fling at the Levantine, and in five minutes we were in the middle of a heated argument.
I had seen Mr Kelada vehement and voluble before, but never so voluble and vehement as now.
At last something that Ramsay said stung him, for he thumped the table and shouted:
“Well, I ought to know what I am talking about.
I’m going to Japan just to look into this Japanese pearl business.
I’m in the trade and there’s not a man in it who won’t tell you that what I say about pearls goes.
I know all the best pearls in the world, and what I don’t know about pearls isn’t worth knowing.”
Here was news for us, for Mr Kelada, with all his loquacity, had never told anyone what his business was.
We only knew vaguely that he was going to Japan on some commercial errand.
He looked round the table triumphantly.
“They’ll never be able to get a culture pearl that an expert like me can’t tell with half an eye.”
He pointed to a chain that Mrs Ramsay wore.
“You take my word for it, Mrs Ramsay, that chain you’re wearing will never be worth a cent less than it is now.”
Mrs Ramsay in her modest way flushed a little and slipped the chain inside her dress.
Ramsay leaned forward.
He gave us all a look and a smile flickered in his eyes.
“That’s a pretty chain of Mrs Ramsay’s, isn’t it?”
“I noticed it at once,” answered Mr Kelada.
“Gee, I said to myself, those are pearls all right.”
“I didn’t buy it myself, of course.
I’d be interested to know how much you think it cost.”
“Oh, in the trade somewhere round fifteen thousand dollars.
But if it was bought on Fifth Avenue I shouldn’t be surprised to hear that anything up to thirty thousand was paid for it.”
Ramsay smiled grimly.
“You’ll be surprised to hear that Mrs Ramsay bought that string at a department store the day before we left New York, for eighteen dollars.”
Mr Kelada flushed.
“Rot.
It’s not only real, but it’s as fine a string for its size as I’ve ever seen.”
“Will you bet on it?
I’ll bet you a hundred dollars it’s imitation.”
“Done.”
“Oh, Elmer, you can’t bet on a certainty,” said Mrs Ramsay. She had a little smile on her lips and her tone was gently deprecating.
“Can’t I?
If I get a chance of easy money like that I should be all sorts of a fool not to take it.”
“But how can it be proved?” she continued.
“It’s only my word against Mr Kelada’s.”
“Let me look at the chain, and if it’s imitation I’ll tell you quickly enough.
I can afford to lose a hundred dollars,” said Mr Kelada.
“Take it off, dear.
Let the gentleman look at it as much as he wants.”
Mrs Ramsay hesitated a moment.
She put her hands to the clasp.
“I can’t undo it,” she said.
“Mr Kelada will just have to take my word for it.”
I had a sudden suspicion that something unfortunate was about to occur, but I could think of nothing to say.
Ramsay jumped up.
“I’ll undo it.”
He handed the chain to Mr Kelada.