And Thereby Hangs a Tale

“You’ve certainly come to the right place, sir,” said Crombie, and pressed a button under the table.

The door opened immediately, and a man in an identical dark suit, white shirt, and dark tie entered the room.

“The gentleman would like to see some engagement rings, Partridge.”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Crombie,” replied the porter, and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

“Good weather for this time of year,” said Crombie as he waited for the porter to reappear.

“Not bad,” said Jeremy.

“No doubt you’ll be going to Wimbledon, sir.”

“Yes, we’ve got tickets for the women’s semifinals,” said Jeremy, feeling rather pleased with himself, remembering that he’d strayed off script.

A moment later, the door opened and the porter reappeared c

arrying a large oak box which he placed reverentially in the center of the table, before leaving without uttering a word. Crombie waited until the door had closed before selecting a small key from a chain that hung from the waistband of his trousers, unlocking the box and opening the lid slowly to reveal three rows of assorted gems that took Jeremy’s breath away. Definitely not the sort of thing he was used to seeing in the window of his local H. Samuel.

It was a few moments before he fully recovered, and then he remembered Arabella telling him he would be presented with a wide choice of stones so the salesman could estimate his price range without having to ask him directly.

Jeremy studied the box’s contents intently, and after some thought selected a ring from the bottom row with three perfectly cut small emeralds set proud on a gold band.

“Quite beautiful,” said Jeremy as he studied the stones more carefully. “What is the price of this ring?”

“One hundred and twenty-four thousand, sir,” said Crombie, as if the amount was of little consequence.

Jeremy placed the ring back in the box, and turned his attention to the row above. This time he selected a ring with a circle of sapphires on a white-gold band. He removed it from the box and pretended to study it more closely before asking the price.

“Two hundred and sixty-nine thousand pounds,” replied the same unctuous voice, accompanied by a smile that suggested the customer was heading in the right direction.

Jeremy replaced the ring and turned his attention to a large single diamond that lodged alone in the top row, leaving no doubt of its superiority. He removed it and, as with the others, studied it closely. “And this magnificent stone,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Can you tell me a little about its provenance?”

“I can indeed, sir,” said Crombie. “It’s a flawless, eighteen-point-four carat cushion-cut yellow diamond that was recently extracted from our Rhodes mine. It has been certified by the Gemmological Institute of America as a Fancy Intense Yellow, and was cut from the original stone by one of our master craftsmen in Amsterdam. The stone has been set on a platinum band. I can assure sir that it is quite unique, and therefore worthy of a unique lady.”

Jeremy had a feeling that Mr. Crombie might just have delivered that line before. “No doubt there’s a quite unique price to go with it.” He handed the ring to Crombie, who placed it back in the box.

“Eight hundred and fifty-four thousand pounds,” he said in a hushed voice.

“Do you have a loupe?” asked Jeremy. “I’d like to study the stone more closely.” Arabella had taught him the word diamond merchants use when referring to a small magnifying glass, assuring him that it would make him sound as if he regularly frequented such establishments.

“Yes, of course, sir,” said Crombie, pulling open a drawer on his side of the table and extracting a small tortoiseshell loupe. When he looked back up, there was no sign of the Kandice Diamond, just a gaping space in the top row of the box.

“Do you still have the ring?” he asked, trying not to sound concerned.

“No,” said Jeremy. “I handed it back to you a moment ago.”

Without another word, the assistant snapped the box closed and pressed the button below his side of the table. This time he didn’t indulge in any small talk while he waited. A moment later, two burly, flat-nosed men who looked as if they’d be more at home in a boxing ring than De Beers entered the room. One remained by the door while the other stood a few inches behind Jeremy.

“Perhaps you’d be kind enough to return the ring,” said Crombie in a firm, flat, unemotional voice.

“I’ve never been so insulted,” said Jeremy, trying to sound insulted.

“I’m going to say this only once, sir. If you return the ring, we will not press charges, but if you do not—”

“And I’m going to say this only once,” said Jeremy, rising from his seat. “The last time I saw the ring was when I handed it back to you.”

Jeremy turned to leave, but the man behind him placed a hand firmly on his shoulder and pushed him back down into the chair. Arabella had promised him there would be no rough stuff as long as he cooperated and did exactly what they told him. Jeremy remained seated, not moving a muscle. Crombie rose from his place and said, “Please follow me.”