Be Careful What You Wish For (The Clifton Chronicles 4)

“But there is one condition.”

Sebastian wondered if he’d changed his mind. “And what is that, sir?”

“If you ever decide to sell any of your sister’s pictures, you must first offer them to me at the same price you paid for them.”

“You have a deal, sir,” said Sebastian as the two men shook hands. “But I would never sell them,” he added. “Never.”

“In that case, I’ll ask Miss Sullivan to make out an invoice for forty-six pounds, twelve shillings and sixpence.” She gave a slight nod and left the room. “I have no desire to bring you to tears again, young man, but in my profession, you are lucky if you come across a talent like Jessica’s twice, perhaps three times in your life.”

“It’s kind of you to say so, sir,” said Sebastian as Miss Sullivan returned, carrying an invoice book.

“Please excuse me,” said Mr. Agnew. “I have a major exhibition opening next week, and I still haven’t finished the pricing.”

Sebastian sat down and wrote out a check for £46 12s 6d, tore it out and handed it to the assistant.

“If I had forty-six pounds twelve shillings and sixpence,” she said, “I would have bought them too. Oh, I’m so sorry,” she quickly added as Sebastian bowed his head. “Will you take them with you, sir, or come back later?”

“I’ll come back tomorrow, that is, if you’re open on a Saturday.”

“Yes, we are,” she said, “but I’m having a few days off, so I’ll ask Mrs. Clark to take care of you.”

“When are you back at work?”

“Thursday.”

“Then I’ll come in on Thursday morning.”

She smiled, a different kind of smile, before leading him back upstairs. It was then that he saw the statue for the first time, standing in the far corner of the gallery. “The Thinker,” he said. She nodded. “Some would say it’s Rodin’s greatest work. Did you know that it was first called The Poet?” She looked surprised. “And if I remember correctly, if it’s a lifetime cast, it must be by Alexis Rudier.”

“Now you’re showing off.”

“Guilty,” Sebastian admitted, “but I have good reason to remember this particular piece.”

“Jessica?”

“No, not this time. May I ask the cast number?”

“Five, of nine.”

Sebastian tried to remain calm, as he needed to get the answers to some more questions, but didn’t want her to become suspicious. “Who was the previous owner?” he asked.

“I’ve no idea. The piece is listed in the catalog as the property of a gentleman.”

“What does that mean?”

“The gentleman in question doesn’t want it to be known that he’s disposing of his collection. We get a lot of customers that way: the three Ds, death, divorce and debt. But I must warn you that you won’t get Mr. Agnew to sell you The Thinker for forty-six pounds, twelve shillings and sixpence.”

Sebastian laughed. “How much is it?” he asked, touching the statue’s bent right arm.

“Mr. Agnew hasn’t quite finished pricing the collection yet, but I can give you a catalog if you’d like one, and an invitation for the private view on August seventeenth.”

“Thank you,” Sebastian said as she handed him a catalog. “I look forward to seeing you again on Thursday.” She smiled. “Unless…” he hesitated, but she didn’t help him, “unless you’re free to have supper with me tomorrow evening?”

“Irresistible,” she said, “but I’d better choose the restaurant.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how much you’ve got left in your bank account.”