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“I don’t know…” said the jeweler hesitantly as Odelia first picked up Dooley, then me, and ever so carefully placed us on top of the glass counter.

It was a very nice glass counter, as glass counters go, and filled with the kind of stuff that makes people’s heads spin: rings and bracelets and earrings and the like. It all glittered invitingly, and I could see why Mr. Linoski would be reluctant to allow two cats to prance around there: the counter’s main purpose was to display the jeweler’s wares, not as a runway for two cats to strut their stuff, especially since one of those cats was on the heavy side.

But then I caught sight of the Pink Lady—if indeed it was that fabled gem—and I stopped worrying about Thormond Linoski. The diamond was indeed a sight to behold. It was small and shiny and sparkly and, most assuredly, very pink!

“It’s gorgeous, Max,” said Dooley next to me. “But it’s very small, isn’t it?”

“It is very small,” I said. “Although for a diamond I think it’s plenty big.”

“How much do you think it’s worth?”

Odelia smiled and voiced that same question to the jeweler now. Thormond pursed his thin lips and glanced up at the ceiling, as if hoping to draw inspiration from the bright lights that shone down on the counter, and made his gem collection sparkle like a Christmas tree.“Well,” he said after long and careful deliberation, “a diamond of this superb clarity, 24.78 carat in weight, pink coloring, cut to perfection by an expert cutter, would normally fetch seven figures at least.”

“Seven figures?” asked Dooley, who’d been listening with rapt attention.

“Millions,” said Odelia.

The jeweler nodded.“But if it is the Pink Lady, you have to add the history, and if my research is correct that would make this diamond, well, priceless.”

“Priceless?” asked Odelia, as she glanced down at the gem, her eyes sparkling almost as fervently as the diamond itself.

“Priceless,” said Thormond Linoski.

“I don’t understand, Max,” said Dooley. “How can a diamond have no price?”

“He means it’s so expensive it’s impossible to put a price on it,” I explained.

“So… is it worth a lot, or nothing at all?” asked my friend, still confused.

“It’s worth a lot,” I said. “A whole lot.”

“If youhad to put a price on it,” said Odelia. “How much…”

The jeweler shrugged helplessly.“Depends on the buyer. Stones like this are put up for auction, not sold in jewelry stores. We’re talking many, many millions. Though, of course,” he was quick to add, “the point of pricing is moot, since the stone will return to its rightful owner, and won’t enter the market at any point.”

“If it is the Pink Lady…”

The jeweler smiled now—a rare sight, and it caused his leathery face to stretch at the seams. “There’s every chance that it is. But how it ended up on that beach? Now that is a complete mystery.”

“And to think it might have stayed on that beach, and probably would have been swept away by the waves.”

A look of constipation came over the scrawny gem specialist.“I’d rather prefer not to think about that. Imagine a precious and priceless gem like this, perfect in every respect, to be lost forever.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “It doesn’t bear thinking. It simply doesn’t.”

“How do you think it ended up on the beach?”

“I can only imagine that whoever was in possession of the stone over the past thirty-odd years must have lost it somehow.”

“The thief, you think?”

“Most assuredly. Are you familiar with the history of the Pink Lady?”

“Only what I’ve read on Wikipedia.”

An expression of distaste flashed across the man’s face, as if to convey the notion that your serious gem dealer doesn’t consider Wikipedia a valuable source of information. “Well, the stone of course belonged to Sheikh Bab El Ehr, ruler of Khemed.”

“Who gave it as a gift to his wife, didn’t he?”