The River of Diamonds

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Whether it was the Miltonics inherent in the phrase which came so spontaneously from the lips of the tall man in the witness-box, or the chance ending of the tape-recording spool which underlined and gave weight to what he said, I am not sure; but I know that in my own mind I date the fate of the Mazy Zed from that instant.

I have read the court transcript since in order to be able to delineate, not chronologically but in its proper perspective, the figure which emerged as our enterprise progressed; I prevailed upon the authorities to give me the actual recording of his words, and it is now revolving slowly on my desk as I write. I still find in his educated, resonant English voice an indication of the well-springs of that drive which made him for so long an outlaw — in his own mind at least — from his friends, from the fellow prospectors who admired his work and hoped to avoid his fate, and most, God knows, from his family. It is easy, therefore, for me to set down exactly what he said, and although the picture of him that I give is taken from my mind's eye, that impress is no less strong upon me than upon anyone else with whom he came in contact. The sea and the dunes — those two were so much part of the man that my narrative starts naturally from the point at which he spoke of them to the court.

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