Of course if you don't accept Conway's story, it means that you doubt either his veracity or his sanity—one may as well be frank.
[…] he remembered how terse and unexcitable the jeweller was, so different from those gem-dealers who, meeting with each other on the pavements at Hatton Garden, could not contain for two seconds their business verve, nor refrain from displaying there and then their tiny precious wares, produced out of waistcoat pockets and wrapped in tissue paper.
Remember, once you hit the send button, the world can become a cyberaudience.
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