. Gregory Halston was an atheist, but as he walked down the corridor of the Savoy Hotel to Suite 26, he found himself praying, Let the stone be similar enough to satisfy old P.J. Benecke.
He stood in front of the door of the contessa’s room taking slow, deep breaths, fighting to get control of himself. He knocked on the door, and there was no answer.
Oh, my God, Halston thought. She’s gone; she didn’t wait for me. She went out shopping and—
The door opened, and Halston found himself facing an elegant-looking lady in her fifties, with dark eyes, a lined face, and black hair laced with gray.
When she spoke, her voice was soft, with the familiar melodic Italian accent. “Sì?”
“I’m G-Gregory Halston. You t-telephoned me.” In his nervousness he was stuttering.
“Ah, sì. I am the Contessa Marissa. Come in, signore, per favore.”
“Thank you.”
He entered the suite, pressing his knees together to keep them from trembling. He almost blurted out, “Where’s the emerald? But he knew he must control himself. He must not seem too eager. If the stone was satisfactory, he would have the advantage in bargaining. After all, he was the expert. She was an amateur.
“Please to sit yourself,” the contessa said.
He took a chair.
“Scusi. Non parlo molto bene inglese. I speak poor English.”
“No, no. It’s charming, charming.”
“Grazie. Would you take perhaps coffee? Tea?”
“No, thank you, Contessa.”
He could feel his stomach quivering. Was it too soon to bring up the subject of the emerald? He could not wait another second. “The emerald—”
She said, “Ah, sì. The emerald was given to me by my grandmother. I wish to pass it on to my daughter when she is twenty-five, but my husband is going into a new business in Milano, and I—”
Halston’s mind was elsewhere. He was not interested in the boring life story of the stranger sitting across from him. He was burning to see the emerald. The suspense was more than he could bear.
“Credo che sia importante to help my husband get started in his business.” She smiled ruefully. “Perhaps I am making a mistake—”
“No, no,” Halston said hastily. “Not at all, Contessa. It’s a wife’s duty to stand by her husband. Where is the emerald now?”
“I have it here,” the contessa said.
She reached into her pocket, pulled out a jewel wrapped in a tissue, and held it out to Halston. He stared at it, and his spirits soared. He was looking at the most exquisite ten-carat grass-green Colombian emerald he had ever seen. It was so close in appearance, size, and color to the one he had sold Mrs. Benecke that the difference was almost impossible to detect. It is not exactly the same, Halston told himself, but only an expert would be able to tell the difference. His hands began to tremble. He forced himself to appear calm.
He turned the stone over, letting the light catch the beautiful facets, and said casually, “It’s a rather nice little stone.”
“Splendente, sì. I have loved it very much all these years. I will hate to part with it.”
“You’re doing the right thing,” Halston assured her. “Once your husband’s business is successful, you will be able to buy as many of these as you wish.”
“That is exactly what I feel. You are molto simpatico.”
“I’m doing a little favor for a friend, Contessa. We have much better stones than this in our shop, but my friend wants one to match an emerald that his wife bought. I imagine he would be willing to pay as much as sixty thousand dollars for this stone.”
The contessa sighed. “My grandmother would haunt me from her grave if I sold it for sixty thousand dollars.”
Halston pursed his lips. He could afford to go higher. He smiled. “I’ll tell you what…I think I might persuade my friend to go as high as one hundred thousand. That’s a great deal of money, but he’s anxious to have the stone.”
“That sounds fair,” the contessa said.
Gregory Halston’s heart swelled within his breast. “Bene! I brought my checkbook with me, so I’ll just write out a check—”