Mr. Pike negotiated the way a bull negotiated with the rider on his back. Normally, this resulted in a quick sale, but Rabbi Golod seemed built of different stuff. The two men were insulting each other’s thievery, ill-suited knowledge of the diamond industry, and amateurish misunder-standings of the Henry Wade school of cutting, and then Pike decided Golod was all right, and it was time for egg salads all around.

That was an hour ago, and the sale had yet to be made. Resting on a black velvet pad before Golod were the pearl necklace and two matching pearl earrings; a ring with a reasonably transparent, reasonably large-girdled sapphire on a chain; a cabochon-cut, rich and vivid ruby with no inclusions or blemishes, about which there was disagreement as to whether it had been heat-treated. But the discussion had been abandoned, and Golod had eaten only a bite of his sandwich before sketching with his Waterman pen a round diamond. He asked if Pike had seen one like this before. Pike glanced at it cautiously.

Golod described it. “It has different culets than what you normally see. And smaller tables and crown angles.”

Pike shook his head. But something familiar was peeking up from the sketch, something to his mind potentially wonderful. “That’s not a European design,” he said.

“For a merchant, you’re very perceptive.” Golod chuckled. “It’s American. Done with a bruting machine.”

There had been rumors. American diamonds had thus far either slavishly imitated the cushion cuts, the rose cuts, the European models. Or they had been disasters. But now? Pike wiped mayonnaise off of his lip. He said, quietly, “So are you saying Tolkowsky’s theories—”

“What they can do now is an ideal, round, brilliant design with a mathematical foundation based in optics—”

“To maximize the fire?”

“Are you ready?” Golod’s eyes twinkled. “Forty-point-seventy-five degrees.”

Pike knew he was being teased, but could not resist asking, “Which is?”

“The correct pavilion angle for that balance is exactly forty-point-seventy-five degrees, my friend Pike.”

“But what about bezel angles? If light comes in from an oblique angle, aren’t you worried about how bezel angles—”

“Ask them at Shreve,” Golod said dismissively.

“I will, but… Excuse me?”

“They have one over at Shreve.”

“No, they don’t.”

“You can ask them about the crown angle, too. I can’t remember what they told me.”

“I haven’t heard about it.”

“They’re torn about whether to call it an ‘ideal cut’ or a ‘perfect cut.’ Personally, I think calling it ‘perfect’ is asking for trouble.” Golod rolled his eyes upward. Since Pike was still regarding him with suspicion, Golod continued. “You’re telling me it strikes you as unusual that your competitor didn’t happen to mention their innovation to you? That’s actually positive—it suggests you’re actually a competitor, take it as a compliment, Mr. Pike.”