Emeline gave him a stunningly brilliant smile. “My aunt has told me on several occasions that she is aware of no other dealer of antiquities in all of London who possesses as much knowledge of the market as yourself, sir.”
Tredlow turned an odd shade of red. Lavinia’s first horrified thought was that he had been struck by a fit of apoplexy. Then she realized that he was blushing. She stared in amazement, unable to take her eyes off the extraordinary sight.
“I have been in this line for a good many years,” Tredlow stammered. “I like to think that I have learned a few things about the business.”
“Indeed, that is obvious.” Emeline looked around the shop with an expression of glowing admiration. “Such wonderful pieces you have for sale, sir. I vow, I haven’t seen anything as nice as that collection of Greek vases in any other shop in Town.”
“Only the finest here at Tredlow’s.” Tredlow fairly simpered. “I have a reputation to uphold, you know.”
He had the look of a man who has just received a visitation from a siren, Lavinia thought. Tredlow was entranced.
Emeline blinked her eyes at him. “I only wish I had the time to spare for a complete tour of your collection today, sir. I know that you could teach me so much about antiquities.”
“Any time, Miss Emeline.” He rubbed his hands together. “I assure you it would be my privilege to instruct you in the subject. Speaking of Greek vases, I must tell you that I have an especially interesting assortment in my back room. The subject matter of the designs is most unusual. I sell them only to the most discerning connoisseurs. Perhaps you would like to make an appointment to view them?”
Lavinia had had enough. She had seen some of the Greek vases that Tredlow kept in the vast, overcrowded storage room at the rear of his shop. The subject matter of the designs was not at all suitable for young, unmarried ladies.
She cleared her throat quite forcefully. “About my questions, Mr. Tredlow.”
He ignored her, evidently unable to take his eyes off Emeline.
Emeline smiled at him. “My aunt truly does have need of your professional expertise, sir. I would be very grateful if you could assist her.”
“What’s that? Oh, yes.” Tredlow gave himself a small shake, managed to tear his gaze away from Emeline, and turned reluctantly to Lavinia. “How can I help you, Mrs. Lake?”
“As you may have heard, sir, I occasionally conduct discreet inquiries on behalf of certain persons of quality.”
The last remnants of the moonstruck look vanished from Tredlow’s expression. Acute disapproval replaced the lascivious warmth that had been there a moment ago. “I believe you did mention that you were attempting to make a living in that rather odd fashion.”
“My aunt has taken me on as her assistant,” Emeline confided. “She is teaching me the business.”
Tredlow looked deeply concerned. “Not a proper occupation for a young lady, if you ask me.”
“A good deal more proper than your offer to show her your private collection of Greek vases,” Lavinia snapped. “Now, then, shall we get down to business, sir?”
His bushy whiskers bounced in an agitated manner. “I presume that, as you are here on business, you are prepared to pay for my advice and expertise?”
“Of course.” Lavinia paused meaningfully. “If it proves helpful.”
Tredlow rocked on his heels. “Of course, of course. Well, then, what is it you wish to know?”
“We have reason to believe that within the past few days, an ancient Roman bracelet was stolen. The antiquity was apparently discovered here in England, not brought from Italy. It is said to be a gold, pierced-work relic set with an unusual blue stone carved with the head of Medusa. There is a tiny wand cut into the stone. Have you heard about the theft?”
Tredlow’s wildly overgrown whiskers jumped again as he pursed his lips in a frown of acute interest.
“You refer to the Blue Medusa?” he asked sharply.
“Yes, do you know it?”
“I have heard of it.” A crafty gleam lit his eyes. “But I was not aware that it had been stolen. Are you quite certain of that?”
“That appears to be the case, yes.”
“The Blue Medusa,” Tredlow repeated softly, as if speaking to himself. “Stolen. Interesting. Word will no doubt spread quickly.”
Lavinia did not care for the new tone in his voice any more than she had for the one he had employed with Emeline. “Mr. Tredlow, we wish to know the identity of the owner of the bracelet.”
He squinted at her through his spectacles. “Obviously, as you do not know him, I must assume that you are not making these inquiries on his behalf.”
“No. My associate and I have been engaged by another concerned party.”
“I see. Well, now. If it has been stolen, one can assume that the thief will likely be looking for an expert in antiquities. He will need to consult with one who can properly evaluate the relic and, perhaps, assist him in arranging a discreet sale.”
Sudden alarm swept through Lavinia. She exchanged a glance with Emeline and saw that she, too, had grasped the nature of this new problem.
She turned back to Tredlow. “I would strongly advise you, sir, not to contemplate for even a single second getting involved with the thief. He has already committed murder once, and I doubt very much if he would hesitate to kill again.”
“Murder.” Tredlow’s eyes widened. He flung out a hand and fell back a step. “Surely you are mistaken?”
“He killed a woman, apparently to silence her.”
“Dear me, dear me. How dreadful.” Tredlow hesitated hopefully. “I don’t suppose it might have been an accident of some sort?”
“Hardly. He strangled her with a cravat.”
“I see.” Tredlow heaved a deep sigh. “How unfortunate. Not the sort of thing that is generally good for business.”
“Unless one is in my line, of course,” Lavinia said. “Now, then, concerning the name of the owner of the Medusa bracelet. You were about to mention it, I believe.”
“Not before we mention my fee.”
Lavinia recalled Howard’s anguished words: Money is no obstacle. “How much do you want for this tiny snippet of information that I can no doubt obtain elsewhere without too much trouble, Mr. Tredlow?”
Tredlow fell to haggling with his customary enthusiasm. It was, after collecting erotic Greek vases, his favorite sport. Fortunately, Lavinia thought, she’d had some experience in that line herself. The enforced stay in Rome a few months back had been instructive in many respects.
“Lord Banks owns the Medusa, I believe,” Tredlow said when the bargain was struck. “The only reason I know that is because the relic found its way into Prendergast’s shop about a year and a half ago. Prendergast very wisely consulted with me to determine a price. He is extremely weak in the field of British-Roman antiquities, you know.”
“I see.” Lavinia kept her voice noncommittal. She was well aware of the long-standing rivalry between Prendergast and Tredlow.
“I saw Prendergast later and asked what had become of the bracelet. He mentioned that he had sold it to Banks. I was somewhat surprised. At one time Banks was quite an active collector of antiquities, but he got rid of the vast majority of his best pieces a few years ago after his wife died. Don’t know why he wanted the Blue Medusa, but there you have it.”
“I wonder why Lord Banks hasn’t sent word around concerning the theft,” Emeline said with a puzzled air.
Tredlow snorted. “His lordship is quite elderly, you know. Both feet in the grave, as it were. I’m told he has a bad heart and in recent months his mind has become a sieve. Probably can’t recall what he had for breakfast, much less whether or not he owns the Blue Medusa. I doubt that he even knows he’s been robbed.”
“That would certainly explain why he has not made the theft public.” Lavinia tapped the toe of her kid half boot and pondered that information. “What better victim than one who isn’t even aware of his loss?”