A Prisoner of Birth

"What did you think of Larry?" asked the first.

"He's wonderful," came back the reply. "Pity he's gay."

"But are you enjoying the play?"

"Oh, yes. I'm coming again on closing night."

"How did you manage to get tickets?"

"One of the stagehands lives in our street."

"Does that mean you'll be going to the party afterwards?"

"Only if I agree to be his date for the night."

"Do you think you'll get to meet Larry?"

"It's the only reason I said I'd go out with him."

A bell sounded three times and several customers quickly downed their drinks before drifting back into the auditorium to take their seats. Danny followed in their wake.

When the curtain rose again, Danny became so engrossed in the play that he almost forgot his real purpose for being there. While the girls' attention remained firmly focused on Dr. Beresford, Danny sat back waiting to find out which one of two men would turn out to be Earnest.

When the curtain fell and the cast took their bows, the audience rose to their feet, shouting and screaming, just as Beth had done that night, but a different kind of scream. It only made Danny more determined that they should find out the truth about their flawed idol.

After the final curtain call, the chattering crowd spilled out of the theater onto the pavement. Some headed straight for the stage door, but Danny made his way back to the box office.

The box office manager smiled. "Enjoy the show?"

"Yes, thank you. Do you by any chance have a ticket for the closing night?"

"Afraid not, sir. Sold out."

"Just a single?" said Danny hopefully. "I don't mind where I sit."

The box office manager checked his screen and studied the seating plan for the last performance. "I do have a single seat in row W."

"I'll take it," said Danny, passing over his credit card. "Does that allow me to attend the party afterwards?"

"No, I'm afraid not," said the manager with a smile. "That's by invitation only." He swiped Danny's card, "Sir Nicholas Moncrieff," he said, looking at him more closely.

"Yes, that's right," said Danny.

The manager printed out a single ticket, took an envelope from below the counter and slipped the ticket inside.

Danny continued to read the program on the tube journey back to South Kensington, and after he'd devoured every word on Oscar Wilde and read about the other plays he'd written, he opened the envelope to check his ticket. C9. They must have made a mistake. He looked inside the envelope and pulled out a card which read:

THE GARRICK THEATRE

invites you to the closing-night party of

The Importance of Being Earnest

at the Dorchester

Saturday 14th September 2002

Admittance by ticket only 11:00 p.m. till heaven knows when

Danny suddenly realized the importance of being Sir Nicholas.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

"HOW INTERESTING. HOW very interesting," said Mr. Blundell as he placed his magnifying glass back on the table and smiled at his potential customer.

"How much is it worth?" asked Danny.

"I have no idea," Blundell admitted.

"But I was told you were one of the leading experts in the field."

"And I like to think I am," replied Blundell, "but in thirty years in the business I've never come across anything quite like this." He picked up his magnifying glass again, bent down and studied the envelope more closely. "The stamp itself is not all that uncommon, but one franked on the day of the opening ceremony is far more rare. And for the envelope to be addressed to Baron de Coubertin..."

"The founder of the modern Olympics," said Danny. "Must be even rarer."

"If not unique," suggested Blundell. He ran the magnifying glass over the envelope once again. "It's extremely difficult to put a value on it."

"Could you give me a rough estimate, perhaps?" asked Danny hopefully.

"If the envelope was purchased by a dealer, two thousand two hundred to two thousand five hundred would be my guess; by a keen collector, perhaps as much as three thousand. But should two collectors want it badly enough, who can say? Allow me to give you an example, Sir Nicholas. Last year an oil painting entitled A Vision of Fiammetta by Dante Gabriel Rossetti came under the hammer here at Sotheby's. We put an estimate on it of two and a half to three million pounds, which was certainly at the high end of the market, and, indeed, all the well-known dealers had fallen out some time before it reached the high estimate. However, because Andrew Lloyd Webber and Elizabeth Rothschild both wanted to add the picture to their collections, the hammer came down for the final time at nine million pounds, more than double the previous record for a Rossetti."

"Are you suggesting that my envelope might sell for more than double its valuation?"

"No, Sir Nicholas, I am simply saying that I have no idea how much it might sell for."

"But can you make sure that Andrew Lloyd Webber and Elizabeth Rothschild turn up for the sale?" asked Danny.

Blundell lowered his head, fearing Sir Nicholas might see that he was amused by such a suggestion. "No," he said, "I have no reason to believe that either Lord Lloyd Webber or Elizabeth Rothschild has any interest in stamps. However, if you decide to put your envelope into our next sale, it would be featured in the catalog, and sent to all the leading collectors in the world."

"And when will your next stamp sale be?" asked Danny.

"September the sixteenth," replied Blundell. "Just over six weeks' time."

"That long?" said Danny, who had assumed that they would be able to sell his envelope within a few days.

"We are still preparing the catalog, and will be mailing it to all our clients at least two weeks prior to the sale."

Danny thought back to his meeting with Mr. Prendergast at Stanley Gibbons, who had offered him £2,200 for the envelope, and probably would have gone as high as £2,500. If he accepted his offer he wouldn't have to wait for another six weeks. Nick's latest bank statement showed that he only had £1,918, so he might well be overdrawn by September 16th with still no prospect of any income.

Blundell did not hurry Sir Nicholas, who was clearly giving the matter his serious consideration, and if he was the grandson of... this could be the beginning of a long and fruitful relationship.

Danny knew which of the two options Nick would have settled for. He would have accepted the original offer of £2,000 from Mr. Prendergast, walked back to Coutts and banked the money immediately. That helped Danny come to a decision. He picked up the envelope, handed it to Mr. Blundell and said, "I'll leave you to find the two people who want my envelope."

"I'll do my best," said Blundell. "Nearer the time, Sir Nicholas, I'll see that you are sent a catalog, along with an invitation to the sale. And may I add how much I always enjoyed assisting your grandfather in the building of his magnificent collection."

"His magnificent collection?" repeated Danny.

"Should you wish to add to that collection, or indeed to sell any part of it, I would be only too happy to offer my services."