and I'm sure Henry can open the door.”
Halsted said, stuttering very slightly in controlled excitement, “No, I'm with Jim. Something is just fated to come up. I'll bet that Mr. Reed has included one very valuable item—quite by accident, perhaps—and that one will turn up missing. I just don't believe we can go through an evening without some puzzle facing us.”
Reed said, “Not that one. I know every one of these stones and, if you like, I'll look at each again.” He did so and then pushed them out into the center of the table. “Merely trinkets that serve to satisfy the innate craving of human beings for beauty.”
Rubin grumbled, “Which, however, only the rich can afford.”
“Quite wrong, Mr. Rubin. Quite wrong. These stones are not terribly expensive. And even jewelry that is costly is often on display for all eyes—and even the owner can do no more than look at what he owns, though more frequently than others. Primitive tribes might make ornaments as satisfying to themselves as jewelry is to us out of shark's teeth, walrus tusks, sea shells, or birch bark. Beauty is independent of material, or of fixed rules of aesthetics, and in my way I am its servant.”
Gonzalo said, “But you would rather sell the most expensive forms of beauty, wouldn't you?”
“Quite true,” said Reed. “I am subject to economic law, but that bends my appreciation of beauty as little as I can manage.”
Rubin shook his head. His sparse beard bristled and his voice, surprisingly full-bodied for one with so small a frame, rose in passion. “No, Mr. Reed, if you consider yourself a purveyor of beauty only, you are being hypocritical. It's rarity you're selling. A synthetic ruby is as beautiful as a natural one and indistinguishable chemically. But the natural ruby is rarer, more difficult to get, and therefore more expensive and more eagerly bought by those who can afford it. Beauty it may be, but it is beauty meant to serve personal vanity.
“A copy of the 'Mona Lisa,' correct to every crack in the paint, is just a copy, worth no more than any daub, and if there were a thousand copies, the real one would still remain priceless because it alone would be the unique original and would reflect uniqueness on its possessor. But that, you see, has nothing to do with beauty.”
Reed said, “It is easy to rail against humanity. Rareness does enhance value in the eyes of the vain, and I suppose that something that is sufficiently rare and, at the same time, notable would fetch a huge price even if there were no beauty about it—”
“A rare autograph,” muttered Halsted.
“Yet,” said Reed firmly, “beauty is always an enhancing factor, and I sell only beauty. Some of my wares are rare as well, but nothing I sell, or would care to sell, is rare without being beautiful.”
Drake said, “What else do you sell besides beauty and rarity?”
“Utility, sir,” said Reed at once. “Jewels are a way of storing wealth compactly and permanently in a way independent of the fluctuations of the market place.”
“But they can be stolen,” said Gonzalo accusingly.
“Certainly,” said Reed. “Their very values—beauty, compactness, permanence—make them more useful to a thief than anything else can be. The equivalent in gold would be much heavier; the equivalent in anything else far more bulky.”
Avalon said, with a clear sense of reflected glory in his guest's profession, “Latimer deals in eternal value.”
“Not always,” said Rubin rather wrathfully. “Some of the jeweler's wares are of only temporary value, for rarity may vanish. There was a time when gold goblets might be used on moderately important occasions but, for the real top of vanity, the Venetian cut glass was trotted out—until glass-manufacturing processes were improved to the point where such things were brought down to the five-and-ten level.
“In the 1880s, the Washington Monument was capped with nothing less good than aluminum and, in a few
Halsted said, stuttering very slightly in controlled excitement, “No, I'm with Jim. Something is just fated to come up. I'll bet that Mr. Reed has included one very valuable item—quite by accident, perhaps—and that one will turn up missing. I just don't believe we can go through an evening without some puzzle facing us.”
Reed said, “Not that one. I know every one of these stones and, if you like, I'll look at each again.” He did so and then pushed them out into the center of the table. “Merely trinkets that serve to satisfy the innate craving of human beings for beauty.”
Rubin grumbled, “Which, however, only the rich can afford.”
“Quite wrong, Mr. Rubin. Quite wrong. These stones are not terribly expensive. And even jewelry that is costly is often on display for all eyes—and even the owner can do no more than look at what he owns, though more frequently than others. Primitive tribes might make ornaments as satisfying to themselves as jewelry is to us out of shark's teeth, walrus tusks, sea shells, or birch bark. Beauty is independent of material, or of fixed rules of aesthetics, and in my way I am its servant.”
Gonzalo said, “But you would rather sell the most expensive forms of beauty, wouldn't you?”
“Quite true,” said Reed. “I am subject to economic law, but that bends my appreciation of beauty as little as I can manage.”
Rubin shook his head. His sparse beard bristled and his voice, surprisingly full-bodied for one with so small a frame, rose in passion. “No, Mr. Reed, if you consider yourself a purveyor of beauty only, you are being hypocritical. It's rarity you're selling. A synthetic ruby is as beautiful as a natural one and indistinguishable chemically. But the natural ruby is rarer, more difficult to get, and therefore more expensive and more eagerly bought by those who can afford it. Beauty it may be, but it is beauty meant to serve personal vanity.
“A copy of the 'Mona Lisa,' correct to every crack in the paint, is just a copy, worth no more than any daub, and if there were a thousand copies, the real one would still remain priceless because it alone would be the unique original and would reflect uniqueness on its possessor. But that, you see, has nothing to do with beauty.”
Reed said, “It is easy to rail against humanity. Rareness does enhance value in the eyes of the vain, and I suppose that something that is sufficiently rare and, at the same time, notable would fetch a huge price even if there were no beauty about it—”
“A rare autograph,” muttered Halsted.
“Yet,” said Reed firmly, “beauty is always an enhancing factor, and I sell only beauty. Some of my wares are rare as well, but nothing I sell, or would care to sell, is rare without being beautiful.”
Drake said, “What else do you sell besides beauty and rarity?”
“Utility, sir,” said Reed at once. “Jewels are a way of storing wealth compactly and permanently in a way independent of the fluctuations of the market place.”
“But they can be stolen,” said Gonzalo accusingly.
“Certainly,” said Reed. “Their very values—beauty, compactness, permanence—make them more useful to a thief than anything else can be. The equivalent in gold would be much heavier; the equivalent in anything else far more bulky.”
Avalon said, with a clear sense of reflected glory in his guest's profession, “Latimer deals in eternal value.”
“Not always,” said Rubin rather wrathfully. “Some of the jeweler's wares are of only temporary value, for rarity may vanish. There was a time when gold goblets might be used on moderately important occasions but, for the real top of vanity, the Venetian cut glass was trotted out—until glass-manufacturing processes were improved to the point where such things were brought down to the five-and-ten level.
“In the 1880s, the Washington Monument was capped with nothing less good than aluminum and, in a few
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