“Of Hafferman?” echoed Venner, with a look of surprise.

“Weren’t you looking at some stones there yesterday?”

“Yes, certainly.  Some very choice diamonds.  I want ten of the first water, a little larger and more perfectly matched than any we have in stock at present.  But how did you learn that I had called there?”

Mr. Garside quickly informed him of the several incidents of the past half hour, when, to his consternation and dismay a look of sudden apprehension swept over Venner’s face.

“Raymond—­the name of Hafferman’s cashier!” he cried.  “Nothing of the sort, Philip.  Their cashier is named Briggs.  I know him well.”

“Briggs!  Briggs!”

“Briggs—­yes, Briggs!” reiterated Mr. Venner, excitedly.  “By Heaven, there must be something wrong here!”

“Dear me!  If this Raymond was an impostor, we are done out of—­”

“Wait—­wait!”

Checking his partner with an impulsive gesture, Venner rushed into his private office and seized his desk telephone, quickly calling up the firm by which the diamonds had been sent.

Garside followed him into the room, only to hear the questions hurriedly asked over the wire by his excited partner, who presently dropped the telephone and leaped to his feet, crying loudly, so loudly that his voice filled the entire store, and brought all hands hurrying in his direction: 

“There’s no doubt of it, Garside, none whatever.  You have been duped—­swindled—­robbed of four thousand dollars’ worth of gems!  Raymond was an impostor—­a crook—­”

“Venner—­hush!  You are losing your head,” protested Garside, white with dismay.  “It’s enough that we have lost the stones, so at least keep your head.  Waste not a moment.  Notify the police.  Telephone at once for men from the central office.”

“Blast the police!  The central office be hanged!” cried Venner, choking down an oath of wrathful contempt.  “I’ll have none of your police—­none of your central office men!  I want a detective—­not an effigy of one!”

“Rufus—­”

“Silence, Garside, and leave this affair to me,” Venner harshly interrupted.  “You’ve had fingers enough in it already.”

With which rebuke Mr. Rufus Venner strode passionately out of the office and into the store proper, shouting loudly to the clerk previously mentioned: 

“Maynard—­here you, Maynard!  Call a cab at once and go for Nick Carter!  Lose not a moment!  Don’t wait to ask questions, you blockhead!  Away with you, at once!  Bring Nick Carter here with the least possible delay!”

Maynard had already seized his coat and hat, and was hurrying out of the store.

And thus began one of the most stirring and extraordinary criminal cases that ever fell within the broad experience of the famous New York detective mentioned.

CHAPTER II.

Concerning senora Cervera.