Drelome: Fleming, where did you manage to find forty thousand francs overnight?
Fleming: There are opportunities everywhere, sir. You've just got to keep an eye out for them.
Monsieur Drelome arrives to meet with Fleming early in the morning, still obviously hungover from last night's drunken revelry.
Drelome: So, you won't be selling "The Merciful Maria" after all?
Fleming: It looks like I won't have to; I've got time to spare and money to burn.
Drelome: I've heard it all before. Just remember, my offer for that pistol stands.
Drelome: But its value here will only drop with time.
Fleming leans back, relaxed.
Fleming: All I need to do now is move my shipment. Then I'll really be set.
Fleming: I doubt it'll take long. They're going to be begging for these beauties.
Fleming: Picture it—you storming into your enemy's Christmas dinner with this beast, spitting lead at seven hundred rounds a minute.
Fleming: Ten seconds—no, five—and the whole family is in hell.
Drelome raises a brow.
Drelome: How cruel.
Fleming: I'm not interested in judgment from a half-drunk loan shark.
Fleming: Now make yourself scarce. I've got more important guests coming.
Drelome: Whatever you say. But just remember, if things fall through. I'm always ready to make a deal.
The pawnbroker stumbles out, either unconcerned or too bleary-eyed to care.
Fleming pours himself another drink, tapping his foot, waiting for the woman who can bring him two diamonds.
Fleming: ...
Ten minutes later, the door opens and Adelita steps in lightly. Fleming rises to greet her.
Adelita: We meet again, Mr. Longen. I do hope it won't be a wasted trip.
Fleming: One way or another, we'll soon find out.
Fleming: Where's Madame Cosette?
Adelita: However in the world would I know? We never agreed on when to meet. I came now only because it was convenient.
Fleming: So, do we wait for her?
Adelita: Brette isn't part of this game. As long as we can return her diamond, that's enough.
Fleming: ... True. No point wasting time.
He raps the safe's sturdy lock with his knuckle.
Fleming: Then take out the "Box from the South" and place it on the table.
Fleming: If you're telling the truth, that should mean there are two diamonds inside.
Adelita: Let me think through that long code ...
She turns the lock with ease and opens the safe. The "Box from the South" lies inside, unchanged.
She lifts it out, sets it on the table, and with the same motion as last night, unlatches the lid ...
Fleming: ...!
Two diamonds of equal size rest on the velvet cushion. That much is undeniable.
Adelita: As you can see, this is the diamond Brette provided—along with its copy.
Adelita: I trust you remember its value. Twenty thousand francs. By our agreement, you should return my collateral.
Fleming: Th—this is impossible ...
Fleming no longer cares about the money. He crouches over, stroking the miraculous box.
Despite his disbelief, he finds an impulse surging up inside him.
Fleming: I want that box. Name your price.
Adelita: A gun.
Fleming: A gun?
Fleming: Heh, I've got plenty of guns. I'd sell you one for a hundred and fifty dollars ...
Adelita: But I have my sights on a very particular one.
Fleming lets go of the box, his thin lips pressing into a hard line.
Fleming: "The Merciful Maria."
Adelita: That's the one. A beautiful little pistol. It once belonged to a Mafia matriarch—and it was said that it could tell who was a traitor.
Adelita: Fire it at your own men, and if they're loyal, the bullets will spare every vital point of the targets.
Fleming: You've heard of it.
Adelita: Call it a hobby. I like digging into and collecting such curious things.
Adelita: And while I've heard less-than-pleasant rumors, I personally don't care how the gun ended up in your hands.
Fleming: ...
Hurried footsteps sound outside the door. Moments later, "Brette" flings herself into the room.
Tennant: Perfect. I'm glad to see you're still here, Adelita.
Adelita: Brette?
Fleming: You've come at just the right time, Madame. Come, take a look—
Tennant: She's deceiving you, Mr. Longen. The "Box from the South" is nothing but a cheap trick.
Fleming: What are you saying? I saw it with my own eyes. Look at another stone, identical as far as I can tell. Though maybe you ought to take a look.
Tennant: I have no doubt the diamond is real. But the "Box from the South" is far from the life's work of an arcanist.
Tennant: It's only a jeweled puzzle box.
Adelita: Brette, please, I really don't appreciate this attempt at ruining my deal.
Without another word, Tennant draws her pistol and fires, striking the box's lid dead on.
Fleming: —Good God!
The lid shatters into powder, spilling several diamonds across the table.
Adelita: ...
Fleming: These diamonds ... where did they come from?
Tennant: They were hidden in the lid. All you need to do is turn the spring, and one will pop out every eight hours.
Tennant: From your point of view, it would seem like it was creating diamonds from thin air.
Tennant: It's a clever trick, isn't it? With six stones in reserve, it would take another two days before you'd realize something had gone wrong.
Tennant: Have I got that right, Adelita?
The startled woman steps back from the shattered remains of the box.
Adelita: I don't really know all the details; I didn't make it. It just happened to fall into my hands.
Tennant: I hate to think you were fooled by this, Fleming. I should expect it's clear as day to you now.
Fleming: You investigated it?
Tennant: It was my diamond inside that box. It was entirely in my interest to know its secrets.
Fleming glares at Adelita.
Fleming: You were after my pistol from the very start!
Her scheme laid bare, Adelita offers no defense.
Adelita: I never meant for things to be like this ... I should go.
Fleming slams his palm on the remains of the box, sending small pieces flying off.
Fleming: Go? You think I'm gonna just let you walk out of here?
Tennant: Let her go, Fleming.
Fleming: What?!
Tennant: She's a fraud; we can see that plain as day. But I do hope you can see why violence wouldn't be good for any of us.
Fleming: So what, she just gets away with making a fool of me? Like I'm just some dumbass tourist to be fleeced?
Tennant: Fleeced? Take a look at what you have right in front of you.
Fleming: ...?
He glances down at the table strewn with shards and at last grasps "Brette's" point.
Fleming: Diamonds.
Tennant: Just think of these diamonds as your "damages." Aside from my own, of course. The rest should come out to one hundred and twenty thousand francs.
Adelita: I think you'll find they're worth even more than that. I choose them specifically—
Tennant: Don't push your luck, Adelita. We're letting you walk away without harming a pretty hair on your head.
Adelita: ...
She hesitates, her eyes lingering on the diamonds with a defeated and wistful expression.
But she has to choose.
Adelita: ... I suppose I have no choice.
Fleming: Get out. And don't ever let me see your face again, swindler!
Adelita whirls and makes for the door, brushing past Tennant on her way out.
Adelita: I won't forget this, Brette.
With the con artist gone, Fleming plucks the scattered diamonds up from the table, his lips twitching into a crooked grin.
—A bruised ego traded for a hundred and twenty thousand francs. Not a bad bargain.
He tosses a diamond to Tennant.
Fleming: Sit with me, Brette. I owe a loyal friend my thanks.
Fleming: Didn't you say you were curious about my "typewriters"?
