Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 51, No. 2, June 28, 1930

As he said this the professor turned a devilish grin upon the horrified faces about him. Picking up the crucible he passed it to the lieutenant.

“Every one kindly examine this most carefully,” he instructed.

In silence the container was passed from hand to hand.

The professor, in silence, too, carefully watched by Saleworth, mixed the ingredients which he told them would form, in the terrifically hot furnace, a small collection of genuine diamonds. And gathered about the table the little group examined the mixture before it was placed in the crucible.

“I have only one formula,” said the professor as he placed the crucible in the furnace. “That is in this room. I do not need any, for the trick is engraved upon my mind, so long I have labored at the thing. This formula is carefully hidden, but I think the murderer can find it. He thinks he can. It is for this secret he will kill me as much as to win my wife. But now he will have to take great care and skill in using it, else he will be sent to the chair.”

“Let us out of this hideous room!” gasped Linda Price. “I cannot stand this any longer. Caresse, poor darling, how do you endure it? The man is mad.”

“Perhaps that is why I endure it,” said Caresse with a strange smile. “He is mad, Linda. He can no more make a diamond than I can.”

The lieutenant believed her. And in watching closely the movements of the professor he had forgotten for the time the impending tragedy. For the life of him he could not discover how he worked the trick. But of course no diamonds were in that crucible at the moment. Plow the diamonds would get into it was what interested Williams.

Chapter V

Eight Diamonds!

“We will have a wait of about a half hour, or a trifle more,” announced the professor, turning from the furnace. “Lieutenant, I will be grateful if you will stand beside the light switch. I do not intend to have my demonstration stopped before I show to Mr. Saleworth the diamonds which I shall take from the crucible.”

With folded arms Williams took up his stand beside the door where a button controlled the powerful lamp which was set in the snowy ceiling and which lighted the small apartment with a trying white glare. His eyes wandered from face to face. Every one was £rave and a bit shocked, uneasy and just a little disgusted, as was to be expected. But even with all his experience he could not decide what man had murder in his heart or the weapon upon him which would cause the death of the professor. And at that last thought he had an inspiration.

“Professor, since you are so set upon the idea that some one here is going to kill you,” he said pleasantly, “suppose I search the gentlemen for a weapon? If you are right and we find one, it may help us vastly later on.”

“A good idea,” said the professor, looking grimly about the circle. “Does every one agree to this?”

A chorus of vehement Voices replied. Apparently every one insisted upon the search. And the lieutenant’s face grew rueful. He was getting the idea that Caresse was right and they dealt with a madman.

“I did not follow your advice, lieutenant,” smiled Wheatland. “I have no gun upon me. I thought it unwise to bring one here.”

“I will search Caresse and she must search me,” said Miss Price in a high indignant voice. “Women can kill as well as men.”

The search, however, brought to light no weapon of any sort.

“My dear professor,” said the lieutenant, “there is nothing here which can end your life. Not even any poison, nor a hypodermic syringe. I see nothing on your tables that can be used for such a purpose. In what fashion do you expect to be killed by one of your guests?”

“I have no idea,” said the professor, looking about the silent circle. “But a man about to die cannot be fooled. The way will be found. I only ask this person to wait until I empty this crucible.”

“I shall faint if I do not get out of this dreadful room!” cried Linda Price hysterically.

“Put up with it,” advised Clinton gravely. “Archie is just a bit off his head.”

“I’ll say he is!” flared Eddie Harmer. “I never heard of anything so utterly ridiculous! We all know each other, but what Mr. Sale worth and the lieutenant think of us must be plenty!”

“We have as yet no reason to think anything wrong,” said Saleworth gently.

Silence then fell rather sullenly upon the strange little room. The furnace grew hotter and hotter. The professor leaned, with his bare arms folded, against the table edge and stared moodily at the fire.

“Can a fellow smoke, I should like to know?” asked Clinton then with a nervous laugh, producing a cigarette case.

“If you like,” nodded the professor.