Lovers Make Moan

living without telling customers how they can do things on the cheap without buying from me. I was a bit suspicious, as a matter of fact, about his claim that he wanted the thing for theatricals. He seemed a respectable enough lad, but nowadays, what with their bicycle chains and flick-knives and all the horrors they go in for, you can’t trust any of them, can you?”

“I am myself somewhat of a connoisseuse of arms and armour. Will you give me what perhaps I may term a ‘trade description’ of the rapier?” said Dame Beatrice.

“Yes, if you think you know what I’ll be talking about. It won’t mean much to you if you don’t.” To Dame Beatrice’s amusement, Tessa Wells eyed her distrustfully before she went behind a curtain at the back of the shop and returned with a large ledger which she placed on top of a glass-topped show-case containing snuff-boxes and some ornate rings. There was also a small object on which Dame Beatrice had already fixed an acquisitive eye. “Here we are,” said the shopkeeper, opening the ledger and consulting a neat index. “Lot 20101. Rapier with flat quillons and sideguards ovoid, rather distinctive pommel, acorn button, rewired grip, ricasso three inches below quillons, swordsmith’s mark on blade, could be running wolf of Solingen. Overall length forty inches. Length of blade thirty-four inches. German, about 1620 if genuine. Ex private collection bombed in last war and sold among other things as salvage.”

“Thank you,” said Dame Beatrice, as Tessa closed the book. “What are you asking for the Babylonian cylinder seal?” She pointed to the tiny object in the show-case.

“That? You can have it for thirty pounds.”

“I think I will offer less. I think that you have little chance of selling it at that price. What does it represent?”

“Date-palms and date harvesting. Do you want me to roll it out for you?”

“Not at the moment, but we will talk again. Where can the inspector and I get some tea?”

“At the bow-fronted shop in the high street nearly opposite the Lion.”

“See you again at five, then, madam,” said Conway. “Much obliged for your help, I’m sure.”

At the police station that evening Tessa Wells was hesitant about identifying the weapon because, she said, the hilt had been somewhat altered.

“There was nothing so very special about the rapier itself. I expect they’ve got others like it in the Tower and other museums. They are sure to have a collection in Gratz and Vienna as well, and probably in the Musee Royal de l’Armee in Brussels, as well as in the Berlin and Solingen collections,” she said.

“To name but a few, as my secretary would say,” said Dame Beatrice, cackling.

“It does seem a shame to have cut this one down to this miserable sliver,” went on the dealer in antiques. “They’ve only left six inches of the blade and they’ve polished out the ricasso, although you can make out the different colour of the metal.”

“This weapon had to go in up to the hilt. It has killed a man, as I suppose you have heard,” said Dame Beatrice.

“You wouldn’t be bothering me otherwise, would you?”

“When we were in your shop you indicated, I think, that you thought the boy was wasting his money.”

“Well, if he only wanted the rapier for theatricals, I don’t see why he couldn’t have got a carpenter to make him a nice wooden one and painted it silver.”

“The hilt might have posed a problem.” Dame Beatrice signed to the inspector, who produced the dagger which had the retractable blade. “Tell me, Mrs Wells, if you do not think these hilts look very much alike.”

“Well, yes, to an untrained eye, I would agree they do. I’m sorry I can’t be positive about my rapier being cut down to this little dagger, but without the rest of the blade I couldn’t be sure.”

“What would you say if I suggested to you that the lad to whom you sold the rapier was not making the purchase on his own behalf, but was acting for somebody else?”

“For somebody else? But why?”

“Because, perhaps, the interested party did not want to appear in the transaction.”

“That boy in my shop seemed a good boy, but could have been got at, I suppose. They’ll do anything for money these days.”

“You did not recognise him as a local boy?”

“No, but I thought he might have come from a public school and that he was in the school play and wanted to show off a bit with a real rapier.”

“There is a public school just outside her town,” said the inspector to Dame Beatrice after they had taken Mrs Wells home, “so her idea would be valid enough.”

“Could the cutting down have been done in the school metalwork department?”

“It’s a line I can follow up. We know the date when the lad bought the rapier. Mrs Wells keeps good records.”

“One thing about the purchase surprised me and that is why I suggested that the boy was only an agent in the affair. I was surprised that he appears to have been alone when he bought the rapier. One would have supposed he would have had friends— possibly envious ones—with him when he made such an ostentatious and costly purchase.”

Enquiries at the school produced nothing. The school provided for boys whose hobby was woodwork, but there was no metalwork centre, neither had a school play been under contemplation. “You will appreciate, Inspector, that this is our examination term.”

“So, unless something turns up out of the blue,” said the Chief Constable to Dame Beatrice, “and, as I see it, that means getting our hands on the blacksmith, or whatever, who cut down that rapier, we’re stymied.‘”

“The antiques dealer came forward; why should the metalworker not decide to do the same?”