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beyond reach。 They are owned by the great houses of Europe and
Asia； and lie in royal caskets； or did。 If I could go into a mine
and find an emerald as big as my fist I should be only partly happy
if it chanced to be of fine colour。 In a little while I should lose
interest in it。 It wouldn't be alive； if you can get what I mean。
Just as a man would rather have a homely woman to talk to than a
beautiful window dummy to admire。 A stone to interest me must have
a story … a story of murder and loot； of beautiful women； palaces。
〃Br…r…r！〃 cried Burlingame。
〃Why； I've seen emeralds I would steal with half a chance。 I
couldn't help it。 Fact；〃 declared Cutty； earnestly。 〃Think of
the loot in the Romanoff palaces！ What's become of all those
magnificent stones？ In a little while they'll be turning up in
Amsterdam to be cut … some of them。 Or maybe Mister Bolsheviki's
inamorata will be stringing them round her neck。 Loot。〃
〃But the drums of jeopardy！〃 said Kitty。
〃Emeralds； green as an English lawn in May after a shower； Kitty。
By the way； do you mind if I call you Kitty？ I used to。〃
〃And I've always thought of you as Cutty。 Fifty…fifty。〃
〃It's a bargain。 Well； the drums to my thinking are the finest two
examples of the green beryl in the world。 Polished； of course； as
emeralds always should be。 I should say that they were about the
size of those peppermint chocolate drops there。〃
〃Have one？〃 said Kitty。
〃No。 Spoil the taste of the pipe。〃
〃You ought to spoil that taste once in a while；〃 was Burlingame's
observation。 〃But go on。〃
〃I suppose originally there was a single stone； later cut into
halves； because they are perfect matches。 The drums proper are
exquisitely carved ivory statuettes； of Hindu or Mohammedan drummers；
squatting； the golden base of the drums between the knees； and the
drumheads the emeralds。 Lord； how they got to me！ I wanted to run
off with them。 The history of murder and loot they could tell！
Some Delhi mogul owned them first。 Then Nadir Shah carried them off
to Persia； along with the famous peacock throne。 I saw them in a
palace on the Caspian in 1912。 Russia was very strong in Persia at
one time。 Perhaps they were gifts； perhaps they were stolen … these
emeralds。 Anyhow； I'd never heard of them until that year。 And I
travelled all the way up from Constantinople to get a glimpse of
them if it were possible。 I had to do some mighty fine wire…pulling。
For one of those stones I would give half of all I own。 To see them
in the possession of another man would be a supreme test to my honesty。〃
〃You old pirate！〃 said Burlingame。
〃But why the word jeopardy？〃 persisted Kitty； who was intrigued by
the phrase。
〃Probably some Hindu trick。 It is a language of flowery metaphors。
It means； I suppose； that when you touch the drums they bite。 In
journeying from one spot to another they always leave misfortune
behind； as I understand it。 Just coincidence； but you couldn't
drive that into an Oriental skull。 This is what makes the study of
precious stones so interesting。 There is always some enchantment；
some evil spell。 To handle the drums is to invite a minor accident。
Call it twaddle； probably is； and yet I have reason to believe that
there's something to the superstition。〃
Burlingame sniffed。
〃I can prove it；〃 Cutty declared。 〃I held those drums in my hands
one day。 I carried them to a window the better to observe them。
On my return to the hotel I was knocked down by a horse and laid
up in bed for a week。 That same night someone tried to kill the
man who showed me the emeralds。 Coincidence？ Perhaps。 But these
days I'm shying at thirteen； the wrong side of the street； ladders；
and religious curses。〃
〃An old hard…boiled egg like you？〃 Burlingame threw up his hands
in mock despair。
〃I laugh； too； but I duck； nevertheless。 The chap who showed me
the stones was what you'd call the honorary custodian； a privileged
character because of his genius。 Before approaching him I sent him
a copy of my monograph on green stones。 I found that he was quite
as crazy over green as I。 That brought us together； and while I
drew him out I kept wondering where I had seen him before。 Both his
name and his face were vaguely familiar。 lt seems a superstition
had come along with the stones； from India to Persia； from there to
Russia。 A maid fortunate enough to see the drums would marry and
be happy。 The old fellow confessed that occasionally he secretly
admitted a peasant maid to gaze upon the stones。 But he never let
the male inmates of the palace find this out。 He knew them a little
too intimately。 A bad lot。〃
〃And this palace？〃 asked Kitty。
〃Not one stone on another。 The proletariat rose up and destroyed
it。 To mobs anything beautiful is offensive。 Palaces looted； banks；
museums； houses。 The ignorant toying with hand grenades； thinking
them sceptres。 All the scum in the world boiling to the top。 After
the Red Day comes the Red Night。〃
〃Whatever will become of them … the little kings and princes and
dukes？〃 After all； thought Kitty； they were human beings； they would
not suffer any the less because they had been born to the purple。
〃Maybe they'll go to work；〃 said Cutty； dryly。 〃Sooner or later；
all parasites will have to work if they want bread。 And yet I've
met some men among them； big in the heart and the mind； who would
have made bully farmers and professors。 The beautiful thing about
the Anglo…Saxon education is that the whole structure is based upon
fair play。 In eastern and southeastern Europe few of them can play
solitaire without cheating。 But I would give a good deal to know
what has happened to those emeralds … the drums of jeopardy。 They'll
probably be broken up and sold in carat weights。 The whole family
was wiped out in a night。。。。 I say； will you take lunch with me
to…morrow？〃
〃Gladly。〃
〃All right。 I'll drop in here at half after twelve。 Here's my
telephone number； should anything alter your plans。 If I'm going
to be godfather I might as well start right in。〃
〃The drums of jeopardy； what a haunting phrase！〃
〃Haunting stones； too； Kitty。 For picking them up in my hands I
went to bed with a banged…up leg。 I can't forget that。 We
Occidentals laugh at Orientals and their superstitions。 We don't
believe in the curse。 And yet； by George； those emeralds were
accursed！〃
〃Piffle！〃 snorted Burlingame。 〃Mush！ It's greed； pure and simple；
that gives precious stones their sinister histories。 You'd have
been hit by that horse if you had picked up nothing more valuable
than a rhinestone buckle。 Take away the gold lure； and precious
stones wouldn't sell at the price of window glass。〃
〃Is that so？ How about me？ It isn't because a stone is worth so
much that makes me want it。 I want it for the sheer beauty； I want
it for the tremendous panorama the sight of it unfolds in my mind。
I imagine what happened from the hour the stone was mined to the
hour it came into my possession。 To me … to all genuine collectors
… the intrinsic value is nil。 Can't you see？ It is for me what
Balzac's La Peau de Chagrin would be t