Shortly before noon on Monday morning, Camden Gerard stepped into the jewelry establishment of William Van Broom, in the city of Wheeling, and asked for the proprietor. That gentleman came forward in no very kindly humor. Upon seeing the well dressed young man, he at once concluded that he was a high-grade jewel drummer, and being a practical business man, he was kindly at sales and surly at purchases.

"This is Mr. Van Broom, I believe," said the young man. "My name is Gerard. I am from New York, sir." Then noticing the jeweller's expression, he added, quickly: "I am not a salesman, sir, and am not going to consume your time. I am in West Virginia on business, and stepped in here to present a letter of introduction which my friend, Bartholdi, insisted upon writing."

The affability of the jeweller returned with a surge. He bowed and beamed sweetly as he broke the seal of the letter of introduction. The paper bore the artistic stamp of Bartholdi and Banks, the great diamond importers, and ran as follows:

"William Van Broom, Esq.,

"Wheeling, West Va.

"Dear Sir:

"This will introduce Mr. Camden Gerard. Kindly show him every possible courtesy, for which we shall be under the greatest obligations.

"Most sincerely your obedient servants,

"Bartholdi and Banks"

The jeweller's eyes opened wide with wonder. He knew this firm to be the largest and most aristocratic dealers in the world. It was much honor, and perhaps vast benefit, to be of service to them, and he was flattered into the seventh heaven.

"I am indeed glad to meet you, sir," he said, seizing the man's hand and shaking it vigorously. "I certainly hope that I can be of service. It is now near twelve; you will come with me to lunch at the club?"

"I thank you very much," answered Camden Gerard, "but I am compelled to go to the Sistersville oil field on the noon train. However, I will return at eight, and shall expect you to dine with me at the hotel."

The jeweller accepted the invitation with ill-concealed delight. The young man thanked him warmly for his kindly interest, bade him good-day, and went out.

That night at eight, Camden Gerard and Mr. William Van Broom dined in the best style the city could afford. The wine was excellent and plentiful, and Gerard proved to be most entertaining. He was brilliant and considerate to such a degree, that when the two men parted for the night the jeweller assured himself that he had never met a more delightful companion.

The following morning Camden Gerard dropped into the store for a few moments, and while conversing with his friend Van Broom, noticed a little ring in the show window. He remarked on its beauty, and intimated that he must purchase a birthday present for his little daughter. The jeweller took the ring from the case and handed it to Gerard. That gentleman discovered that it was far prettier than he had at first imagined it, and inquired the price.

"It is marked at twenty-five dollars," said the jeweller.

"Why," said Camden Gerard, "that is very cheap; I will take it."

The jeweller wrapped up the ring and gave it to the New Yorker. That gentleman paid the money and returned to his hotel.

The next day Camden Gerard was presumably down in the great Tyler County oil field. At any rate he returned to the city on the evening train and dined with Van Broom at the club. As the evening waned, the men grew confidential. Gerard spoke of the vast fortunes that were made in oil. He said that the West Virginia fields were scarce half developed, but that they had already attracted the attention of the great Russian companies and that gigantic operations might be soon expected. He denounced the autocratic policy of the Czar in regard to oil transportation, and hinted vaguely at vast international combines. He spoke of St. Petersburg and the larger Russian cities; of the manners and customs of the nobility; of their vast fortunes, and their very great desire to invest in America. He intimated vaguely that there now existed in New York a colossal syndicate backed by unlimited Russian capital, but he gave the now excited and curious jeweller no definite information concerning himself or his business in West Virginia, shrewdly leaving Van Broom to draw his own inferences.

It was late when William Van Broom retired to his residence. He was happy and flattered, and with reason. Had he not been selected by the great firm of Bartholdi & Banks to counsel with one who, he strongly suspected, was the private agent of princes?

About two o'clock on the following Thursday afternoon, Mr. Camden Gerard called upon William Van Broom and said that he wished to speak with him in his private office. The New Yorker was soiled and grimy, and had evidently just come from a train, but he was smiling and in high spirits.

When the two men were alone in the private office, Camden Gerard took a roll of paper from his pocket, and turned to Van Broom. "Here are some papers," he said, speaking low that he might not be overheard. "I have no secure place to put them, and I would be under great obligations to you if you would kindly lock them up in your safe."

"Certainly," said the jeweller, taking the papers and crossing to the safe. He threw back the door and pulled out one of the little boxes. It contained an open leather case in which there was a magnificent diamond necklace.

"By George!" said Camden Gerard, "those are splendid stones."

"Yes," answered Van Broom, taking out the case and handing it to the New Yorker. "They are too valuable for my trade; I am going to return them."

Camden Gerard carried the necklace to the light and examined it critically. The stones were not large but they were clear and flawless.

"What are these worth?" he said, turning to Van Broom.

"Thirty-five hundred dollars," answered the jeweller.

"What!" cried Gerard, "only thirty-five hundred dollars for this necklace? It is the cheapest thing I ever saw. You are away under the foreign dealers."

"They are cheap," said Van Broom. "That is almost the wholesale price."

"But," said Camden Gerard, "you must be mistaken. Your mark is certainly wrong. I have seen smaller stones in the Russian shops for double the price."

"We can't sell the necklace at that figure," said Van Broom, smiling. "We are not such sharks as your foreign dealers."

"If you mean that," said Camden Gerard, "I will buy these jewels here and now. I had intended purchasing something in the east for my wife, but I can never do better than this."

The New Yorker took out his pocket-book and handed Van Broom a bill. "Before you retract," he said, "here is fifty to seal the bargain. Get your hat and come with me to the bank."

"All right," said Mr. Van Broom, taking the money. "The necklace is yours, my friend." Camden Gerard closed the leather case and put it into his pocket. The jeweller locked the safe, put on his hat, and the two went out of the store and down the street to the banking house of the Mechanics' Trust Company. Mr. Gerard enquired for the cashier. The teller informed him that the cashier was in the back room of the bank and if he would step back he could see him. The New Yorker asked his companion to wait for a moment until he spoke with the cashier. Then he went back into the room indicated by the teller, closing the door after him.

The cashier sat at a table engaged with a pile of correspondence. He was busy and looked up sharply as the man entered.

"Sir," said the New Yorker, "have you received a sealed package from the Adams Express Company consigned to one Camden Gerard?"

"No," answered the cashier, turning to his work.

"You have not?" repeated Gerard, excitedly, "then I will run down to the telegraph office and see what is the matter." Thereupon he crossed hurriedly to the side door of the office, opened it and stepped out into the street. The cashier went on with his work.

For perhaps a quarter of an hour William Van Broom waited for his companion to conclude his business with the cashier. Finally he grew impatient and asked the teller to remind Mr. Gerard that he was waiting. The teller returned in a moment and said that the gentleman had gone to the telegraph office some time ago. The jeweller's heart dropped like a lead plummet. He turned without a word and hurried to the office of the Western Union. Here his fears were confirmed, Camden Gerard had not been in the office. He ran across the street to the hotel and enquired for the New Yorker. The clerk informed him that the gentleman had paid his bill and left the hotel that morning. The jeweller's anxiety was at fever heat, but with all he was a man of business method and knew the very great value of silence. He called a carriage, went to the chief of police, and set his machinery in motion. Returning to his place of business he opened the safe and took out the package of papers which Camden Gerard had given him. Upon examination this proved to be simply a roll of blank oil leases. Then remembering the letter of introduction, he telegraphed to Bartholdi & Banks. Hours passed and not the slightest trace of Camden Gerard could be found. The presumed friend of the great diamond importers had literally vanished from the face of the earth.

About four o'clock the jeweller received an answer from Bartholdi & Banks, stating that they knew no such man as Camden Gerard and that his letter of introduction was false. Mr. William Van Broom was white with despair. He put the letter and answer into his pocket and went at once to the office of the prosecuting attorney for the State and laid the whole matter before him.

"My dear sir," said that official, when Mr. Van Broom had finished his story, "your very good friend Camden Gerard owes you thirty-four hundred and fifty dollars, which he will perhaps continue to owe. You may as well go back to your business."

"What do you mean?" said the jeweller.

"I mean," replied the attorney, "that you have been the dupe of a shrewd knave who is familiar with the weak places in the law and has resorted to an ingenious scheme to secure possession of your property without rendering himself liable to criminal procedure. It is true that if the diamonds were located you could attach and recover them by a civil suit, but it is scarcely possible that such a shrewd knave would permit himself to be caught with the jewels, and it is certain that he has some reasonably safe method by which he can dispose of them without fear of detection. He has trapped you and has committed no crime. If you had the fellow in custody now, the judge would release him the moment an application was made. The entire matter was only a sale. He bought the jewels and you trusted him. He is no more a law-breaker than you are. He is only a sharper dealer."

"But, sir," cried the angry Van Broom, spreading the false letter out on the table, "that is forged, every word of it. I will send this fellow to the penitentiary for forgery. I will spend a thousand dollars to catch him."

"If you should spend a thousand dollars to catch him," said the attorney, smiling, "you would never be able to send him to the penitentiary on that paper. It is not forgery."

"Not forgery!" shouted the jeweller, "not forgery, man! The rascal wrote every word of that letter. He signed the name of Bartholdi & Banks at the bottom of it. Every word of that paper is false. The company never heard of it. Here is their telegram."

"Mr. Van Broom," said the public prosecutor, "listen to me, sir. All that you say is perhaps true. Camden Gerard doubtless wrote the entire paper and signed the name of Bartholdi & Banks, and presented it to you for a definite purpose. To such an act men commonly apply the term forgery, and in the common acceptation of the word it is forgery and a reprehensible wrong; but legally, the false making of such a paper as this is not forgery and is no crime. In order to constitute the crime of forgery, the instrument falsely made must be apparently capable of effecting a fraud, of being used to the prejudice of another's right. It must be such as might be of legal efficacy, or might be the foundation of some legal liability.

"This paper in question, although falsely made, has none of the vital elements of forgery under the law. If genuine, it would have no legal validity, as it affects no legal rights. It would merely be an attempt to receive courtesies on a promise, of no legal obligation, to reciprocate them; and courtesies have never been held to be the subject of legal fraud. This is a mere letter of introduction, which, by no possibility, could subject the supposed writer to any pecuniary loss or legal liability. It is not a subject of forgery, and its false making is no crime.

"Men commonly believe that all writings falsely made or falsely altered are forgeries. There was never a greater error. Forgery may be committed only of those instruments in writing which, if genuine, would, or might appear as the foundation of another man's liability, or the evidence of his right. All wrongful and injurious acts are not punished by the law. Wrongs to become crimes must measure up to certain definite and technical standards. These standards are laid down rigidly by the law and cannot be contracted or expanded. They are fixed and immutable. The act done must fit closely into the prescribed measure, else it is no crime. If it falls short, never so little, in any one vital element, the law must, and will, disregard it as criminal, no matter how injurious, or wrongful, or unjust it may be. The law is a rigid and exact science."

Mr. William Van Broom dropped his hands to his sides and gazed at the lawyer in wonder.

"These facts," continued the attorney, in his clear, passionless voice, "are matters of amazement to the common people when brought to their attention. They fail to see the wise but technical distinctions. They are willing to trust to what they are pleased to call common-sense, and, falling into traps laid by the cunning villain, denounce the law for impotency."

"Well," said the jeweller, as he arose and put on his overcoat, "what is the good of the law anyhow?"

The prosecuting attorney smiled wearily. To him the wisdom of the law was clear, beautiful, and superlatively just. To the muddy-headed tradesman it was as color to the blind.