“That, I cannot divulge. But it is true, yes?”
“There was talk of thinning out the art collection, yes. Where are you going with this, man? It is late and I must be abed.” Part of me wanted to believe that Sebastian Cavell was a fraud and he was pouring poison in my ear so that I would doubt my oldest friend, and in turn, he would make a killing at the auction.
“I know people… friends in…shall we say, low places. I have it on good authority that the Late Lord Ardmillan amassed a mountain of debt when his Military days were over. He could not live up to the myth he had created, and so, in desperate need of funds he employed a forger by the name of Andreas Milieux. Several of the Old Masters from the Ardmillan collection are in fact counterfeit.”
“No!” As an auctioneer, I had dealt with many a counterfeit item in my time. I have a practiced eye and an encyclopedic knowledge of artists, techniques, and mediums. I was keen to take a look at the paintings and judge for myself.
“The originals were shipped to the U.S.A and sold at auction in Los Angeles, California seven years ago.”
“You have no proof!”
“I have seen the shipping dockets.”
“Why should I trust a damnable word you’re saying?“ My mind was reeling, not just from the amount of wine I had quaffed this chilly eve, but from the implications of what Sebastian Cavell was telling me. Had Euan’s nature changed so much that he would willfully try to swindle me?
“I’ll let you into a little secret.” Cavell twisted the tips of his waxed mustache. “As you are aware I am here in the guise of Artur Engles—a buyer for a Berlin auction house. The real Mr. Engles is at a sanatorium in the Swiss Alps recovering from Tuberculosis, but Mr. Buchanan has never met the man, and he wasn’t to know that.”
I had read in the newspaper that physicians were now suggesting a brand new treatment for Tuberculosis which included cold, clear air, high altitude, and healthy meals to assist those who suffered to recover, so this was plausible.
“I took on this guise because I was commissioned to steal the Tipu Sultan’s Tiger Head ornament.” I was about to share my outrage at this revelation but Cavell held his hand up to silence me.
“However, that plan has been abandoned.”
“Why? Has the famous Sebastian Cavell found his conscience?” I mocked.
Cavell let out a withering laugh.
“No, dear heart. Because on perusal of the item that was displayed this evening, I noticed several things that were, shall we say, off… chiefly, the verity that the gems embedded in the gold Tigers head are in fact paste. The smaller, less expensive jewels are genuine; however, the rubies and sapphires are most certainly imitations.”
I was confused and horrified. Several gem experts were on my payroll at my auction house. Their job was to ensure precious stones listed for sale by Hannan’s were genuine. Forgers are indeed highly skilled individuals and Hannan’s had been fooled several times. I don’t know of an auctioneer who hasn’t accidentally sold a counterfeit item.
“Now, the entire ornament could be counterfeit and the genuine stones added to give a touch of authenticity. Or the genuine Tiger's head was brutalized to remove and replace genuine stones with glass imitations.”
I was aghast at the thought of Lord Ardmillan having someone deface such a historic artifact, and as if Cavell could read my thoughts he said,
“I believe that whatever happened to the Tigers' head was carried out in the time of Lord Percival Ardmillan. I do not believe Euan knows that the Tipu Sultan’s Tiger Head he is attempting to sell is an imitation.” I was relieved to hear this.
“However, when it comes to the art collection, I truly believe that Euan Ardmillan knows of his father’s deceit and played a part in it.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He is on the passenger list of the very same ship that carried the genuine paintings. Euan was the member of the Ardmillan family who took the old masters to auction. The art rouse has been going on for years. They have systematically replaced their most prized items with fakes and the only conclusion here is that the new Lord Ardmillan is continuing the family business and wishes to play you for a fool, Benedict.”
“Do you think him so callous a man? If so, you do not know the real Euan Ardmillan!” I protested in defence of my friend and lover.
“Lord Percival Ardmillan was property rich, yet cash poor when he passed. Euan’s inheritance comprises of unworkable mountainous land, an old estate house that is about to fall down from disrepair, and a boarded-up London townhouse that he cannot afford to run. The inheritance is a millstone around Euan’s neck and… desperate men do despicable things!”
I recalled how despondent and ungrateful Euan sounded when speaking of his inheritance. I did not understand how bad his situation was until now. It must be an unbearable worry. It was no wonder the man could not keep his stand!
“So, you are telling me that my oldest friend is manipulating me to commit fraud from which only he will profit!”
“Correct. I believe Lord Ardmillan will abscond with the profits to prevent his debtors from getting their hands on the money. I’d wager he will go to the continent and start a new life.”
“You assume a great deal, Mr. Cavell. I have not seen one shred of evidence for any of these tall tales you have told this night.”
“Then we will find out tomorrow. If you place a bid on anything at the auction, I assure you, Mr. Buchanan will overlook you. I mean you no harm Benedict; in fact,
