Dark as the inside of an empty wine cask and reeking with the same stale smells is a certain evil subterranean cafe in Warsaw. Last week Polish detectives surrounded silently, peered down and into the place expectantly. They saw M. Aaron ("Diamond Jew") Rubenstein in strange traffic with some two score creatures whose air was furtive, smugglerous.
Cuddled in many an upturned palm were diamonds. Shaken lovingly from soft, drawstring pouches they twinkled and tumbled in the hot light of three gas jets. The sight, the low babble of bidding, was evidence...
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