He paused, and then added, almost apologetically:

“You don’t mind my telling it this way, do you? As though I wasn’t in it at all. It seems like that now when I look back and see those two boys. I almost forget that one of them was⁠—Harry Rayburn.”

“Tell it any way you like,” I said, and he went on:

“We came to Kimberley⁠—very cock-a-hoop over our find. We brought a magnificent selection of diamonds with us to submit to the experts. And then⁠—in the hotel at Kimberley⁠—we met her⁠ ⁠…”

I stiffened a little, and the hand that rested on the doorpost clenched itself involuntarily.

“Anita Grünberg⁠—that was her name. She was an actress. Quite young and very beautiful. She was South African born, but her mother was a Hungarian, I believe. There was some sort of mystery about her, and that, of course, heightened her attraction for two boys home from the wilds. She must have had an easy task. We both fell for her right away, and we both took it hard. It was the first shadow that had ever come between us⁠—but even then it didn’t weaken our friendship. Each of us, I honestly believe, was willing to stand aside for the other to go in and win. But that wasn’t her game. Sometimes, afterwards, I wondered why it hadn’t been, for Sir Laurence Eardsley’s only son was quite a parti. But the truth of it was that she was married⁠—to a sorter in De Beers’⁠—though nobody knew of it. She pretended enormous interests in our discovery, and we told her all about it and even showed her the diamonds. Delilah⁠—that’s what she should have been called⁠—and she played her part well!