Danny jumped on a bus for Notting Hill Gate, hoping he'd be in time for the monthly meeting with his probation officer. Another ten minutes and he would have had to take a cab. Ms. Bennett had written to say that something of importance had come up. Those words made him nervous, though Danny knew that if they had found out who he really was, he wouldn't have been informed by a letter from his probation officer, but would have woken in the middle of the night to find the house surrounded by police.
Although he was becoming more and more confident with his new persona, not a day passed when he wasn't reminded that he was an escaped prisoner. Anything could give him away: a second glance, a misunderstood remark, a casual question to which he didn't know the answer. Who was your housemaster at Loretto? Which college were you in at Sandhurst? Which rugby team do you support?
Two men stepped off the bus when it came to a halt in Notting Hill Gate. One of them began to jog toward the local probation office; the other followed close behind, but didn't enter the building. Although Danny checked in at reception with a couple of minutes to spare, he still had to wait for another twenty minutes before Ms. Bennett was free to see him.
Danny entered a small, sparse office that contained only one table and two chairs, no curtains, and a threadbare carpet that would have been left orphaned at a car-boot sale. It wasn't much of an improvement on his cell at Belmarsh.
'How are you, Moncrieff?' asked Ms. Bennett as he sat down in the plastic chair opposite her. No 'Sir Nicholas,' no 'sir,' just 'Moncrieff.'
Behave like Nick, think like Danny. 'I'm well, thank you, Ms. Bennett. And you?' She didn't reply, simply opened a file in front of her that revealed a list of questions that had to be answered by all former prisoners once a month while they are on probation. 'I just want to bring myself up to date,' she began. 'Have you had any success finding a job as a teacher?'
Danny had forgotten that Nick intended to return to Scotland and teach once he was released from prison.
'No,' Danny replied. 'Sorting out my family problems is taking a little longer than I had originally anticipated.'
'Family problems?' repeated Ms. Bennett sharply. That wasn't the reply she had expected. Family problems spelled trouble. 'Do you wish to discuss these problems?'
'No, thank you, Ms. Bennett,' said Danny. 'I'm just trying to sort out my grandfather's will. There's nothing for you to worry about.'
'I will be the judge of that,' responded Ms Bennett. 'Does this mean you are facing financial difficulties?'
'No, Ms. Bennett.'
'Have you found any employment yet?' she asked, returning to her list of questions.
'No, but I expect to be looking for a job in the near future.'
'Presumably as a teacher.'
'Let's hope so,' said Danny.
'Well, if that proves difficult, perhaps you should consider other employment.'
'Like what?'
'Well, I see that you were a librarian in prison.'
'I'd certainly be willing to consider that,' said Danny, confident that would achieve another tick in another box.
'Do you have somewhere to live at the present time, or are you staying in a prison hostel?'
'I have somewhere to live.'
'With your family?'
'No, I have no family.'
One tick, one cross and one question mark. She continued. 'Are you in rented accommodation, or staying with a friend?'
'I live in my own house.'
Ms. Bennett looked perplexed. No one had ever given that reply to the question before. She decided on a tick. 'I have just one more question for you. Have you, during the past month, been tempted to commit the same crime as the one you were sent to prison for?'
Yes, I've been tempted to kill Lawrence Davenport, Danny wanted to tell her, but Nick replied, 'No, Ms. Bennett, I have not.'
'That will be all for now, Moncrieff. I'll see you again in a month's time. Don't hesitate to get in touch if you feel I can be of any assistance in the meantime.'
'Thank you,' said Danny, 'but you mentioned in your letter that there was something of importance…'
'Did I?' said Ms. Bennett as she closed the file on her desk to reveal an envelope. 'Ah, yes, you're quite right.' She handed him a letter addressed to
Danny leaped up and punched his fist in the air as if he was at Upton Park and West Ham had scored the winning goal against Arsenal. Ms. Bennett wasn't sure if she should congratulate Moncrieff or press the button under her desk to summon security. When his feet touched the ground, she asked, 'If it's still your intention to take a degree, Moncrieff, I'll be happy to assist you with your application for a grant.'
Hugo Moncrieff studied the Sotheby's catalog for some considerable time. He had to agree with Margaret, it could only be Lot 37:
'Perhaps I should attend one of the viewing days and take a closer look?' he suggested.
'You will do nothing of the sort,' said Margaret firmly. 'That would only alert Nick, and he might even work out that it's not the stamp we're interested in.'
'But if I went down to London the day before the sale and found out the address on the envelope, we'd know where the collection is, without having to waste any money buying it.'
'But then we wouldn't have a calling card.'
'I'm not sure I'm following you, old gal.'
'We may not be in possession of the key, but if your father's only surviving son turns up with the envelope as well as the new will, we must have a chance of convincing whoever is holding the collection on his behalf that you are the rightful heir.'
'But Nick might be at the sale.'
'If he hasn't worked out by then that it's the address that matters, not the stamp, it will be too late for him to do anything about it. Just be thankful of one thing, Hugo.'
'And what's that, old gal?'
'Nick doesn't think like his grandfather.'
Danny opened the catalog once again. He turned to Lot 37 and studied the entry more carefully. He was pleased to find such a full description of his envelope, if not a little disappointed that, unlike several of the other items, there was no photograph accompanying it.
He started to read the conditions of sale and was horrified to discover that Sotheby's deduct 10 percent of the hammer price from the seller as well as loading a further 20 percent premium on the buyer. If he ended up with only
