“Rest assured I shall treat this all with the utmost confidence.”
“I have no doubt about that, sir.” Robert’s pace faltered as he spoke. “Here it is and this will make us look like fools. When we first encountered Mr Nettles, it was at a party of very influential people. He was disdainful of the elite, and his opinions amused me. It amused both of us, in fact, Lottie and I. We thought that he was bold and daring and revolutionary and quite compelling. I could see that women adored him for his dangerous views and his vast wealth. And he knows everyone who is worth knowing. If you get close to him, your position in society – well, in our circle of society – is assured. So everyone wants to be his friend.”
Theodore nodded. That explained so much of the previous night’s party and Mrs Dymchurch’s beeline for them.
Robert went on. “He was not interested in us, of course. What could we possibly offer him? He had no need of making our acquaintance. That ... smarted somewhat, if I am honest.”
“I am sure that it did,” Theodore said, hiding his smile.
“Here comes the secret and you will understand that I cannot reveal it. I can tell you what it’s about, though.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Lottie and I happen to know who Lord H truly is.”
“Aha! And that is...?”
“As I say, I will not betray this person a second time.”
“This person? Are they male or ... female? Are they really a lord?”
“I cannot tell you a single thing without compromising them,” Robert said unhappily as Theodore’s mind whirled. Was it Charlotte? Lady Purfleet also springs to my mind. How thrilling! It could be simply anyone!
“Very well,” Theodore said. “I understand now why you cannot give me all the details.”
“Thank you. It came to our attention that while we knew of this artist’s true identity, Mr Nettles – remarkably – did not, and it galled him beyond measure.”
“Goodness! I should imagine that it did. And so you used this information to get close to him?”
“In part, yes,” Robert said. “Unfortunately it led to a closeness between us which has got us embroiled in his world of crime. We were stupid and we were blind. We used this information to get us into his inner circle without realising that we would be asked to do certain things. It would never be a friendship of equals. I don’t believe the man has friends. Just acquaintances that he can use.”
“What do you mean that you were asked to do certain things?”
“Things that began innocently but ended up being quite, quite criminal – and we were too stupid to see it until it was too late. For example, Sir James Kitchener had imported from antiquaries from Iraq, the trade of which Mr Nettles had facilitated. But when they arrived in England, the paperwork was not quite as it ought to have been and while the mess was sorted out, Mr Nettles asked us if we might just store the little sculptures in our house but to keep it absolutely to ourselves. He said if we mentioned it, it put us at risk of being burgled, which made perfect sense.”
“Were they stolen?”
“From Iraq? Almost certainly though Sir James would argue it was his right as an Englishman as he had provided the money to pay the locals to dig these things up. I don’t know. It seems a little bit complicated to me.”
“It does not. Theft is theft,” said Theodore.
“Well if that were the case, our own museums are full of loot.”
“They are.”
“Um.” Robert shook his head, unwilling to take the argument any further. “Anyway. I suppose we can’t change history and if the stuff is here, it’s ours now, isn’t it? Can’t do anything about that.”
“We could give it back?” Theodore cared nothing for art and didn’t see the point of hanging on to it.
“But where does that end? We’d have nothing left in our museums. And we’re preserving a lot of this stuff that would have been destroyed if we hadn’t taken it. We’ve rescued it. You can’t trust the natives, you know that yourself.”
“Ha, so they say, but you can’t trust an Englishman either – we both ought to know that! But let us get back to what you did. I think you’re avoiding the true subject.”
“Perhaps I am. Forgive me. So we stored this stuff secretly and I think I had a suspicion about it but I didn’t think it mattered, not really. Sir James popped round to have a look at it. I think he was being watched – and that’s what made me realise this is actually serious, you know, if they are secretly watching people – because then I got accosted by a chappie from Scotland Yard and he wanted to know everything. And ... and I lied to him. Good God, sir, I lied to the police.” He whispered that last sentence in a broken voice of horror.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. I denied everything. I said nothing about the sculptures, about Mr Nettles, about any of it. I suddenly knew it was all far more important than I’d realised before. And then ... the police came to search the house.”
“Good Heavens!”
“But I’d told Mr Nettles right away that the police had spoken to me, so he’d taken the stuff away sharpish, and I was glad of that. I thought we were clear of any trouble, and we were innocent anyway, at least in my head. But that was just one example. There have
