‘In what way?’
‘Well, I haven’t seen her since her father died. That was three or four years ago. You’ve met her recently, and I was wondering whether she’d given you any indication she might be going away — to stay with a relative or friends. She can’t have had an easy time of it these last few years, looking after that brother of hers. He was very badly injured, you know. Now, can you help me at all?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ I told him. ‘I was expecting a letter from her myself, and she certainly didn’t say anything about going away.’
‘You talked to her, then?’
‘For a short time, just before I left when she brought me some tea.’ I started to tell him then about the wood carvings and Carlos Holland, but he interrupted me.
‘Yes, but what was her frame of mind? I’m just trying to decide whether I ought to do something about it. I can’t ever remember a client going off suddenly like this without a word when we’re trying to get a mortgage position cleared up. And it was at her request, I may say. But the point is this … well, life hasn’t exactly been a bed of roses for her, first her father, then her brother — I wondered whether you’d been able to form any opinion of her mental state. She’d no relatives in the country, nobody she can turn to, I do know that.’
‘If you’re worried she may be suicidal,’ I said, ‘you can forget it. That was not her mood at all.’ And I added, ‘She’s got another brother, I believe. Why not contact him? Presumably you have his address.’
‘I don’t think that would help. He’s out in the Pacific somewhere.’
‘Had she any money of her own at all, money she could use to fly out there?’
‘I can’t answer that.’ There was a pause, and then the high, crisp voice said, ‘Well, thank you. Thank you very much for your help.’ And he put the phone down.
There were a lot of papers piled on my desk, but it was difficult to concentrate, wondering if I had been justified in declaring so categorically she was not in a suicidal state. Nothing in our conversation had indicated that she had any friends in England, and though she apparently had the money to pay her bills and hire a taxi, that didn’t mean she had enough to do whatever it was she had in mind. And here I was with a bid of £1,500, which I had offered to increase, and no means of contacting her.
And then, just as I was packing up to leave, stuffing Rowlinson’s papers into my briefcase so that I could refresh my memory before he came to see me that evening, the girl in the outer office rang through to say a Mr Berners was on the phone wanting to speak to me personally. I told her to find out what it was about, but she had already done that; all he would say was that a Miss Holland had told him to contact me.
I thought perhaps it was to give me her address, but when he was switched through, it was the stamps he was interested in. He was a dealer, and he had heard from somebody in the trade there was a collection available that included proofs of a stamp he thought might interest a client of his. ‘When I go to see Miss Holland, I find she don’t have the collection any longer. You have it, so now I am asking you what time tomorrow is convenient for me to see it.’
‘When was it you saw Miss Holland?’ I asked.
‘On Thursday. Last Thursday afternoon.’
He had an accent I couldn’t place, and it irritated me. ‘How did you get her address?’
‘From a Mr Keegan who is making some enquiries of me. He made a note of it when he is asked to consider the authenticity of the die proofs. So now, when can I see the proofs please?’
I remembered there had been a label with her name and address on the brown paper she had wrapped the albums in and I had used the same wrapping before putting them in a plastic bag and giving them to Tubby. ‘I am afraid the collection is not available for viewing here.’
‘But you are handling the sale, Mr Slingsby. If it is not with you, where is it please?’
‘It’s being valued. My instructions at the moment do not go beyond obtaining a valuation.’
‘I do not understand. Miss Holland tells me you are handling the sale for her and I must go to you to see the proofs.’
‘I think you misunderstood her.’
‘No, I do not misunderstand her. She said to go and see Mr Slingsby, and she gave me your address in Chelmsford. So, if you are handling the sale, you cannot just tell somebody who is interested to go away. It is your duty to co-operate and make the collection available for anybody to view who wishes.’
‘I don’t need to be told my duty,’ I said sharply. A door slammed down the corridor, and I looked at my watch: rush hour already. ‘If you give me your address, Mr Berners, I’ll be in touch with you as soon as I’ve contacted Miss Holland.’
‘Do you have the valuation yet?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And I also have a firm offer which I have passed on …’
‘How much?’
‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.’
‘Okay then, the valuation. How much does your dealer friend value it at?’
There was something about the way he said ‘your dealer friend’ that I didn’t like. ‘I think you will have to ask Miss Holland that.’
‘How can I? She is gone abroad, and I am asking you because you are handling the sale.’
‘I am not handling the sale,’ I repeated angrily, irritated beyond measure at his insistence. ‘All I have agreed to do is obtain a valuation.’ By that time his words had registered, and I asked him how he knew she had gone abroad.
‘She tell me, of course. She tell me when she said you would be selling the collection for her. Now, this dealer friend of yours — he has valued the stamps and I take it also made the offer for them. In the circumstances, I think you have to tell me one figure or the other. It would be most unethical for an agent to conceal a professional valuation in order to protect his friend’s bid for a property. Eh, Mr Slingsby? So, now you give me the figure please.’
I was greatly tempted just to slam the phone down, but he was so obviously a trouble-maker it didn’t seem worth it. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘the collection has been valued at one thousand three hundred and twenty pounds.’
‘And the proofs? I am only interested, I think, in the die proofs. I take it he has valued them separately.’
‘Yes, at two hundred and twenty pounds.’
‘Ah yes, of course, two hundred and twenty pounds. How many die proofs are there?’
‘Three, two on one page, one on the other.’
‘Can you describe them for me?’
I did so, and he said, ‘Good. That confirms what I have been told, that these are die proofs of the Solomons Seal. Kindly do not dispose of them until I have had the opportunity to view and put in a bid. I will call at your office in Chelmsford tomorrow afternoon, say, three o’clock. Please have the stamps available then.’ And before I could say anything more, he put the phone down.
I sat there for a moment, thinking back over the conversation, still annoyed by his manner and the inferences he had drawn. But for all I knew the valuation might be too low, particularly for the Trinidad ship stamp. I reached for the phone again and dialled Tubby’s number. Fortunately he was at home, and his voice sounded cheerful as he said, ‘She’s accepted, has she? I’m probably paying over the odds, but-’
‘No, she hasn’t accepted,’ I told him. ‘She’s gone off somewhere, leaving no address, and now there’s somebody else showing an interest.’