The tables were arranged in place settings of four and two, and the custom was to be seated wherever there was room. He saw Bennett and his Chinese had an empty chair at their table for four. As earlier in the observation car, the witty writer was regaling nearby tables while his solemn charges sat quietly. The German, Shafer, was eating in stiff silence across from an American drummer who was failing miserably to make conversation. The Australian was at another table for two speaking earnestly with a table mate dressed as if he could afford to buy a gold mine. At another two, Laurence Rosania was deep in conversation with a younger man in an elegant suit.

Bell slipped the diner captain money. “I would like that empty seat at Mr. Bennett’s table.”

But as the captain led him toward the writer’s table, Bell heard another diner call out from a table he had just passed.

“Bell! Isaac Bell. I thought that was you.”

The gem merchant Erhard Riker rose from his table, brushing a napkin to his lips and extending his hand. “Another coincidence, sir? We seem to repeat them. Are you alone? Care to join me?”

The Chinese could wait. The passenger list showed them connecting through to San Francisco, whereas Riker was changing trains in the morning to the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe’s California Limited.

They shook hands. Riker indicated the empty chair across from him. Bell sat.

“How’s our diamond hunt going?”

“I’m closing in on an emerald fit for a queen. Or even a goddess. It should be waiting for us when I get back to New York. We can only pray the lady will like it,” he added with a smile.

“Where are you headed?”

Riker looked around to ensure they weren’t overheard. “San Diego,” he whispered. “And you?”

“San Francisco. What’s in San Diego?”

Again Riker looked around again. “Pink tourmaline.” He smiled self-disparagingly. “Forgive my taciturnity. The enemy has spies everywhere.”

“Enemy? What enemy?”

“Tiffany and Company are attempting to corner the tourmaline supply in San Diego because Tz’u-hsi, Dowager Empress of China—an eccentric despot with all the wealth of China at her disposal—loves San Diego’s pink tourmaline. Uses it for carvings and buttons and the like. When she fell head over heels for pink tourmaline, she created a whole new market. Tiffany is attempting to seize it.” He lowered his voice further. Bell leaned closer to hear. “This has created splendid opportunities for an independent gem merchant who is able to snap up the best samples before they do. It’s dog-eat-dog in the gem line, Mr. Bell.” He added a wink to his smile, and Bell was not sure whether he was serious.

“I don’t know anything about the jewelry business.”

“Surely a detective comes across jewels, if only stolen ones.”

Bell looked at him sharply. “How did you know I was a detective?”