The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1904-08-27
JEWEL MYSTERIES
.By MAX PElMBERTON.
THE COMEDY OF THE JEWELEI
LINKS.
Copyright, 1904 .

do not know II there DO any drug in
the phar1nacopoia, or any clearly defined
medical treatment, which may ever hope
to grapple effectively with the strange
disease Of jewel-hunger but If there be
not, have much pleasure in recommend
Ing this most singular ill to the notice
OF a rising generation of physicians. That
1t Is a branch Of that mystery OF myster-
les, la neYrose, / have no manner OF
doubt, for have it in all its forms
"a malignant growth which makes night
OF the lives 1t plays upon; and tlourishes
to exceeding profit down in the very heart
OF tragedies. For the matter of that,
the fiunkies, who study in the Kitchen
as the great master has told us-the
characters Of their governing acQuaint-
ances in the boudor above over a quart
pot and the Police News, get no little
insight into the development Of the So
cial disaster which treads often upon the
heels Of jewel-hunger, as they read those
extravagantly ornate reports Of robbery
and of mystery in which a highly moral
the field--to them the inner life must
remain hidden. No physician hoping to
cope with the affection should turn either
to gossips or to slanderers for his dag
nosis. Let him get down into the caves
OF the trade. give his ear to the truer
narrative which the jewel dealer alone
can write for him, and he may hope for
material and for, success. And If he be
wise, he will study both the comedy and
the tragedy which such an investigation
will bring before him, and will by this
means alone set himself up as a spe-
cialist.
1t is to such o one that would recon-
mend perusal of the following case which
record here as one Of the comedies Of
my notebook story Of meanness, GU
pid1ty, and stupid cunning; 1 doubt if
there be any philosophy Of medicine which
mo- 10 . enJ,, w.
were but two principal actors mentioned
In the argument and, indeed, 1t might
fa1rly be called onepart play. The
chlef person concerned, Lord Harning-
ham, had known for many years. He
was man of whom a biographer wrote
that his long and unblemished career
was credit to his country" and to whom
a book on the Decalogue was Inscribed
as to one sans peur at sans reproche
Yet they told you in the smokingrooms
that he starved his first wife, and left
his only son as the partner Of a horse
copper in Melbourne. on the princely al
lowance Of $50 pounds per annum. His
wealth, said common report, was any
thing from fifty thousand to a hundred
thousand pounds per nnnum and in his
second childhood, for he was a septua-
genarian when this comedy was PLAYED
he was sucked on the nourishins
food of expiring leases and forfeited
improvements until he seemed to exude
s0vereigns from every pore in his enor-
nous body. -.
A meaner man never lived All SMILES
IN converse were based upon his exploits
AS mean as old Harningham' was a.
phrase you heard every day at the
Bachelors. In the countless old stories
they put upon him. telling how at a ten
ants lunch in Bedfordshire he had cried.
Here's another quart Of cider, and hang
the eXpense! how he had been seen in
,arlxa+ Ix,,1y Ut;
how he haggled with cabmen innumer-
able; how he had been stricken with a.
malignant fever on the day he gave away
q sovereign for a shlling-thdre was but
the echo Of the general sentiment. The
society prints were hilarious at the mere
mention Of MS name. 1 recollect well his
anger when a wag said in one of them,
1t Is rumored that Lord birmingham is
shortly about to give something away"
lie was in my office next day-a week
rarely passed but what I saw hin--and
he laid the journal upon my table beating
1t nat with stick, and pointing at it
with his ample finger as tho his very
touch would wither the writer
please to read that" he said with
forced CAIN, but considerable emphasis,
and tell me If the scoundrel doesn't de-
serve to be hanged. He dares to mention
my name. dye see! To mention me. and
speak about my concerns. Fla! but I wish
had him alnder this stick" =.
of course you don't know who wrote
It," said l.
How should know" he gabblcd testi-
ly. DO 1 go round to the taverns swill-
Ing gin -and-water with such gutter birds!
DO l hobnob with all the half-starved
limners in Fleet street? Pshaw you talk
like a fool"
l suffered his temper, for he was worth
a couple OF thousand a year to me- Pres
emily he became calmer,, and the hume,
Of the thing dawned upon his dull mind
'Ha! he said. snuffing ferociously from
the great diamond studded box he always
carried IT shouldn't wonder if that's Mas
ter BERTHE Watts-you know my nephew
Ell: he owes you something, eh?-well
that's like him. and his scoundrelly i'm.
pudence-the vagabondn'
DID not I read somewhere that he wa:
going to be married?" rema rked at haz
ard; but the notion tictled him immensely
and he rolled about in his chair, Shaking
the snuff from his box over his fur Goa t
and even upon my papers.
Yes, you read it," he gasped at last
"a fine tale too. Why, what's he got?-
your hundred year in Whitehall, ant
what he can draw out of me-not much
M. Sutton-not much'
g. l had no doubt of that but kept IN
face while he went on to mutter and t.
chortle; and I showed him bracelet O
:rubies, which he desired instantly to pur
chase l had put price Of four hundred
and twenty pounds upon it, meaning t.
accept three hundred. so that we hagglet
for two hours by clock and eha,
then done business He took tn
rubies away with him. while cause
the further sum to be set agains
him in the ledger, where alread
there were so many unpaid items unde
the name. He owed me $4,000 at tn
least, but could not press the account
or should have lost him; and while
was often sore troubled for lack of tn.
money L knew that I should get 1t at ri
death, and so aided his jewel hunger
This was prodgious. ALI the gems tina
sold--watches. necklaces tiaras
brooches and breastpins--were convene,
at once to the great safe in his bedroom
and there immured. No one ever say
them but himself His wives, both o
whom were dead, had scarce enjoyed tn
possession Of a barmaid's jewery TIL
passion Of the collector, Of the hungere
after stones, alone consumed him. OF al
his meanness. this was the most contemp
tible-this hiding of fair treasure from
the light 1t lived upon-this gross hoard
Ing Of beautiful things for one mans self
ish enjoyment.
When he left Bond street that day
crying at my door, 80 I'm going to Civ
something away, am +? But 1 amt. SUIT
ton, l aint'-and, walking off as tho h
had found satisfaction In the negativ
thus conveyed to me, I picked up tn
paper and read again that young Berti
Watts was at last engaged to the Hor