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‘You think this Knight and this Carstairs are the same person?’

‘It would be such a help, I feel, if they were, but we have seen Knight and from the descriptions we have received of Carstairs from independent and presumably unbiased witnesses it does not seem as though Carstairs and Knight can possibly be the same man.’

‘I see. It is a gang and, of course, they are smugglers. They smuggle stolen antiques from here to Ireland and from Ireland to America.’

‘So we have thought. What do you know about it?’

‘Now that Vittorio is dead, perhaps what I have to tell you is not so important as I thought. Does anyone know you have come here to visit me?’

‘Only the man outside the door.’

‘You see, I do not like all these killings.’

‘Does anybody? Please go on.’

‘This begins with what I told you before. You remember I go to Vittorio’s lodging and see this stuff that I am sure is stolen?’

‘Yes, I remember it clearly.’

‘Well, a month or more goes by and I conduct my business as usual and think no more of what I have seen and then one day this Honfleur, with whom we have dined, comes into my shop very much upset and asks can he speak to me privately on a matter of great importance. Well, of course, I know of the connection between him and Vittorio, how Vittorio finds him good pieces at a nice price and I think I see how the land lies. Honfleur, I think to myself, is stuck with some stolen pieces which Vittorio obtains for him and now he finds out they are stolen and wants to know what to do. He has paid good money for them, so naturally he does not want to give them up, and yet he knows that, if the police trace them to his house, not only will they be confiscated but he may find himself in big trouble as well for harbouring stolen property.’

‘It was a very intelligent guess on your part,’ said Dame Beatrice.

‘Not so intelligent, no, because it is much worse than I think. It is not advice this Honfleur wants, but for me to hide his stolen goods while he thinks what to do.’

‘Of course you refused.’

‘At first, yes, but there is more. He tells me that Vittorio blackmails him. He says that Vittorio wishes him to buy the things I describe to you – all that beautiful stuff of Chinese art, best periods – and tells him that if he do not, Vittorio will rat on him to the police that he has other stolen property in his possession.’

‘And had he?’

‘Oh, yes, of course,’ said Conradda, as though the question surprised her. ‘This Honfleur do not know how much I know about him, but perhaps you remember that, before we leave to go home, I retire upstairs for usual reasons? Well, I do a quick snoop around up there and I recognise one or two things.’

‘What made you think of doing a quick snoop around?’ asked Laura, fascinated by a mentality so alien from and yet so sympathetic to her own.

‘Simple, I am not satisfied by that Welsh dresser.’

‘It looked all right to me.’

‘The dresser, yes. The contents, no. What are we shown? Some good pieces, yes, but on the shelves where everybody may see. Nothing of value in the drawers and cupboards, no good pictures on the walls, nothing but those pretty but silly little carved spoons which Vittorio himself repudiates and which Honfleur let Dame Beatrice have in return for her platters with no haggling, no bargaining, no fun at all.’

‘I don’t see what in this aroused your suspicions,’ said Laura. ‘The English are not very good at that sort of thing. Dame B would think it beneath her dignity to haggle. She would either buy or refuse to buy, and that would be that.’

‘I understand, but I deprecate. Not so is trade carried on. But you talk of my suspicions and you do not approve when I make an excuse to go upstairs and take opportunity to case the joint. Why not?’

‘Oh, please don’t think I’m blaming you, but exactly why did you snoop?’

‘Because if, as we are told by Honfleur, this Vittorio find him nice stuff at a good price, where is the rest of it and why are we not shown? Mind, at that time, I do not know this Vittorio, but my instincts tell me not to trust him. He is – how shall I put it?’

‘A greasy bird,’ suggested Laura, quoting.

‘That is very good. A greasy bird. We meet them all the time in my business, you know. Well, of course I have to be quick, but in the bedroom I have time to spot some nice things, many of them on the police list.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ asked Dame Beatrice.

‘Oh, quite sure. There are pictures of which I know their homes; ceramics much, much better than some we are shown on the dresser; in a cabinet a collection of snuff-boxes of which, even at a glance, I recognise two or three. Oh, and you remember I said Vittorio’s jade and soapstone does not interest me? But in this Honfleur’s bedroom! Museum pieces! Beautiful! Priceless! And all stolen. I am sure of it. It is a marvellous collection and I wish I dare look further around in other rooms, but there is no time.’

‘And then Vittorio invited you to go with him to see his Chinese collection.’

‘So. Well, of course, when I get back to my hotel I am deep in thought. Why, I ask myself, does this Vittorio invite me? Does he know, after all, that I am expert in ceramics? I cannot answer myself. Maybe it is as he says. He wishes me to interest Dame Beatrice. So I warn Dame Beatrice and then I put it all out of my mind and carry on my business as usual until this Honfleur come to my London shop.’

‘Ah!’ said Laura. ‘And here we come to the point!’

‘Oh, no. The point has been made, I think,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘The point is blackmail, as Conradda has indicated.’

Conradda spread her hands.

‘This Honfleur comes to my shop in London a second time,’ she said, ‘and asks for another interview in private. I am not at all keen on this. I think perhaps he wishes this time to sell some of his stolen goods to me, and so it is. It turns out that Vittorio puts more pressure on Honfleur to buy the Chinese ceramics. Honfleur says only too pleased if the price is right. He has told Vittorio this many times before, but the price is never right.’

‘So, in the end, Vittorio told Honfleur, I suppose, that if he did not buy the ceramics at Vittorio’s price, he would inform upon Honfleur as a receiver of stolen goods.’

‘That is so, of course, but Honfleur this time simply asks me to buy his collection of jade so he can get enough money to pay Vittorio for the ceramics, which he confesses he knows were stolen.’

‘But you, believing the jade to have been stolen, too, very properly refused any part in the transaction.’

‘Of course, yes. Honfleur goes away very sad, very worried. In no way, he tells me, can he find the money Vittorio asks unless he can sell other things. He offers me snuffboxes – well, but I have seen one in his room which I know I have seen in a ducal mansion and which has been in the police list, so I say no to the snuff-boxes. Then I say no when he offers me a Picasso, and again no to a pair of gold-inlaid pistols which I have not spotted in his house but which he describes as the work of the gun-maker to King William the Third.’

‘Aha!’ exclaimed Laura. Conradda glanced at her, but went on:

‘So, like I am saying, Honfleur goes away sad. Then comes this snake Vittorio and offers me again to buy the china. I say no sale for such important stuff among my clients, so no reason to buy. So he say he will inform on me that I have the Ming and the Sung and the K’ang Hsi pottery and all the rest of it in my basement. Of course I say this is nonsense, but he says that when he tip off the police it will not be nonsense.’

‘He was going to plant it on you?’ asked Laura.

‘So. Well, I am alarmed. The police I fear very much because of my life in Nazi Germany. So I pretend to capitulate. I stall. I say I need to find the money and then a buyer. I say maybe I sell my smaller shop. He agrees three months for this, so I sell both my shops and fly to America, and now you bring me good news to tell me he is dead.’