Summary
A sun-drenched drawing room, scented with gardenias and menace, becomes the stage for a bauble that burns brighter than conscience: a diamond willed by ageing gem-czar Peter J. Martin to his porcelain-heiress daughter Ruth, whose twenty-first birthday balloons ought to swell with innocence yet sag under the spectral weight of debts, disguises, and ancestral rot. Into this chandeliered hothouse glides Gentleman Joe—silk-gloved anti-hero, poet of larceny—swapping the detective’s badge for a carnation, swallowing identity like oysters. Outside, the cypresses quiver to the crunch of nephew Robert Kendall’s creditors; inside, Harold—the prodigal son—blunders into a masquerade that ends with patriarchal blood freckling the marble, a false confession scrawled in terror, and a thief who, against every instinct etched in his larcenous marrow, decides that honour among thieves can still eclipse the noose. The diamond, vanishing into a tobacco jar’s brown labyrinth, is never the prize; the real loot is the moral quicksand that lets a gentleman outlaw rewrite the final reel.
Synopsis
Retired gem merchant Peter J. Martin hires detective Dan McRae to guard a large diamond which he plans to present to his daughter Ruth on her twenty-first birthday. Notorious jewel thief Gentleman Joe overpowers McRae, however, and takes his place at Ruth's party. Meanwhile, Martin's nephew, Robert Kendall, who plans to steal the diamond to repay heavy debts, enlists Ruth's brother Harold as an unwitting accomplice. The plans go awry, however, resulting in Martin's murder by Kendall, secretly witnessed by Joe. Harold is found next to the body and later confesses to patricide to stop an intense police interrogation. When Joe hears that Harold has been charged with murder as well as the theft of the diamond, he determines to help him. Joe confronts Kendall, offers him a gun and gives him the choice of arrest or suicide. After writing a full confession, Kendall kills himself, thereby exonerating Harold. In his apartment, Joe entertains McRae and presents him with a jar of tobacco in which the diamond is hidden.
Review Excerpt
"
A diamond is only carbon until desire squeezes it into light.
In 1914, while Europe rehearsed the choreography of trenches, American cameras were already pirouetting around another war—class warfare wearing white gloves. The Master Cracksman survives only in shards: a cracked tintyped reel here, a lobby card there, a synopsis typed on onion-skin now freckled like a century-old décolleté. Yet from those crumbs a myth flares, hotter than any carbon crystal, because Harry Carey—part cowboy, part..."
