As they walked out of the gallery she said: Im surprised youre selling the pictures-you seem so fond of them.
Cardwell smiled ruefully. Yes. But needs must, when the Devil drives.
I know what you mean, Samantha replied.
III.
"THIS IS BLOODY AWFUL, Willow," said Charles Lampeth. He felt the language was justified. He had come in to his office on Monday morning, after a weekend in a country house with no telephone and no worries, to find his gallery in the thick of a scandal.
Willow stood stiffly in front of Lampeths desk. He took an envelope from his inside jacket pocket and dropped it on the desk. My resignation.
Theres absolutely no need for it, Lampeth said. Every major gallery in London was fooled by these people. Lord, I saw the picture myself and I was taken in."
It might be better for the gallery if I did go, Willow persisted.
Nonsense. Now, youve made the gesture and Ive refused to accept your resignation, so lets forget it. Sit down, theres a good chap, and tell me exactly what happened."
"It's all in there," Willow replied, pointing at the newspapers on Lampeths desk. The story of the forgery in yesterdays paper, and the terms were being offered in todays. He sat down and lit a slim cigar.
"Tell me anyway.
It was while you were in Cornwall. I got a phone call from this chap Renalle, who said he was at the Hilton. Said he had a Pissarro which we might like. I knew we didnt have any Pissarros, of course, so I was quite keen. He came round with the picture that afternoon.
Lampeth interrupted: I thought it was a woman who took the pictures to the galleries?".
Not this one. It was the chap himself.
I wonder whether theres a reason for that, Lampeth mused. Anyway, carry on.
Well, the painting looked good. It looked like Pissarro, it was signed, and there was a provenance from Meuniers. I thought it was worth eighty-five thousand pounds. He asked sixty-nine thousand, so I jumped at it. He said he was from an agency in Nancy, so it seemed quite likely he would undervalue a picture. I assumed he was simply not used to handling high-priced works. You came back a couple of days later and approved the purchase, and we put the work on display.
"Thank God we didnt sell it, Lampeth said fervently. Youve taken it down, now, of course."
First thing this morning."
What about this latest development?
The ransom, you mean? Well, we would get most of our money back. It is humiliating, of course: but nothing compared with the embarrassment of being duped in the first place. And this idea of theirs-low-rent studios for artists-is really quite laudable.
So what do you suggest?
"I think the first step must be to get all the dealers together for a meeting.
Fine.
Might we hold it here?
I dont see why not. Only get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. The publicity is appalling.
It will get worse before it improves. The police are coming around later this morning.
Then we had better get some work done before they arrive. Lampeth reached across his desk, lifted the telephone, and said: Some coffee, please, Mavis. He unbuttoned his jacket and put a cigar between his teeth. Are we ready for the Modigliani exhibition?
Yes. I think it will go well.
"What have we got?
There are Lord Cardwells three, of course.
Yes. Theyll be picked up within the next few days.
Then weve got the drawings I bought right at the start. They have arrived safely.
"What about dealing pictures?"
Weve done quite well. Dixon is lending us two portraits, the Magi have some sculptures for us, and weve got a couple of oil-and-crayon nudes from Desides. There are more which I have to confirm.
What commission did Dixon want?
He asked for twenty-five percent but I knocked him down to twenty.
Lampeth grunted. I wonder why he goes to the trouble of trying it on. Anyone would think we were a shop front in Chelsea instead of a leading gallery.
Willow smiled. We always try it on with him.
"True."
You said you had something up your sleeve.
Ah, yes." Lampeth looked at his watch. An undiscovered one. I have to go and see about it this morning. Still, it can wait until Ive had my coffee.
Lampeth thought about the forger as his taxi threaded its way through the West End toward the City. The man was a lunatic, of course: but a lunatic with altruistic motives. It was easy to be philanthropic with other peoples money.
Undoubtedly, the sensible thing would be to give in to his demands. Lampeth just hated to be blackmailed.
The cab pulled into the forecourt of the agency and Lampeth entered the building. An assistant helped him with his overcoat, which he had worn because of the chill breezes of early September.
Lipsey was waiting for him in his office, the inevitable glass of sherry ready on the table. Lampeth settled his bulk into a chair. He sipped the sherry to warm him.
So youve got it.
Lipsey nodded. He turned to the wall and swung aside a section of bookcase to reveal a safe. With a key attached by a thin chain to the waist of his trousers, he unlocked the door.
Its as well Ive a big safe," he said. He reached in with both hands and took out a framed canvas about four feet by three feet. He propped it on his desk where Lampeth could see it, and stood behind it, supporting it.
Lampeth stared for a minute. Then he put down his sherry glass, got up, and came closer. He took a magnifier from his pocket and studied the brush-work. Then he stood back and looked again.
What did you have to give for it? he asked.
Im afraid I forked out fifty thousand pounds.
Its worth double that.
Lipsey moved the painting to the floor and sat down again. I think its hideous, he said.
So do I. But its absolutely unique. Quite astonishing. Theres no doubt its Modigliani-but no one knew he ever painted stuff like this.
Im glad youre pleased, said Lipsey. His tone said he wanted to introduce a more businesslike note into the conversation.
You must have put a good man on it, Lampeth mused.
"The best. Lipsey suppressed a grin. He went to Paris, Livorno, Rimini ...
And he beat my niece to it.
Not exactly. What happened-"
I dont want to know the details, Lampeth cut in. Have you got a bill ready for me? Id like to pay it right away.
Certainly. Lipsey went to the office door and spoke to his secretary. He came back with a sheet of paper in his hand.
Lampeth read the bill. Apart from the 50,000 for the painting, it came to 1,904. He took out his personal checkbook and wrote the amount in.
Youll get an armored truck to deliver it?
Of course, Lipsey said. "That's in the bill. Is everything else satisfactory?
Lampeth ripped out a check and handed it to the detective. I consider Ive got a bargain, he said.
The New Room was closed to the public, and a long conference table had been brought in and set in the center. All around the walls were dark, heavy Victorian landscapes. They seemed appropriate to the somber mood of the men in the room.
The representatives of nine other galleries were there. They sat at the table, while the assistants and solicitors they had brought with them sat in occasional chairs nearby. Willow was at the head of the table with Lampeth beside him. Rain pattered tirelessly against the high, narrow windows in the wall. The air was thick with cigar smoke.
Gentlemen, Willow began, we have all lost a good deal of money and been made to look rather foolish. We cannot retrieve our pride, so we are here to discuss getting our money back.
"It's always dangerous to pay a blackmailer." The high Scots accent belonged to Ramsey Crowforth. He twanged his suspenders and looked over the top of his spectacles at Willow. If we cooperate with these people, they-or someone else-could try the same stunt again."
The mild, quiet voice of John Dixon cut in. "I dont think so, Ramsey. Were all going to be a lot more careful from now on-especially about provenances. This is the kind of trick you cant play twice.
I agree with Dixon, a third man said. Willow looked down the table to see Paul Roberts, the oldest man in the room, talking around the stem of a pipe. He went on: "I dont think the forger has anything to lose. From what I read in the press, it seems he has covered his tracks so well that the police have little or no hope of finding him, regardless of whether we call them off or not. If we refuse to cooperate, all the villain does is pocket his half a million pounds.
Willow nodded. Roberts was probably the most respected dealer in London-something of a grand old man of the art world-and his word would carry weight.
Willow said, Gentlemen, I have made some contingency plans so that, if we do decide to consent to these demands, the thing can be done quickly." He took a sheaf of papers from his briefcase on the floor beside him. Ive got Mr. Jankers here, our solicitor, to draw up some papers for the setting up of a trust fund.
He took the top folder from the pile and passed the rest down the table. Perhaps you would have a look at these. The important clause is on page three. It says that the trust will do nothing until it receives approximately five hundred thousand pounds from one Monsieur Renalle. At that time it will pay ninety percent of the money to the ten of us, in proportion to the stated amounts we paid for the forgeries. I think you will find those figures correct.
Crowforth said: Somebodys got to run the trust.
I have made some tentative arrangements on that point too, said Willow. They are subject to your approval, quite naturally. However, the Principal of the West London College of Art, Mr. Richard Pink-man, has agreed to be chairman of the trustees if we so require. I think the vice-chairman should be one of us-perhaps Mr. Roberts.
We would each have to sign a form of agreement withdrawing any claim on the money apart from the arrangement with the trust. And we would have to agree to withdraw our complaint to the police against Monsieur Renalle and his associates.
Crowforth said: I want my solicitor to study all these papers before signing anything.
Willow nodded. Of course.
Roberts said: I agree-but all the same, we want this business over with quickly. Could we not agree in principle today? The rest could be done by our solicitors over the next day or two, unless there are any snags.
A good idea, Willow approved. Perhaps our Mr. Jankers could coordinate the solicitors activities? " Jankers bowed his head in acknowledgment.
Are we all agreed, then, gentlemen? Willow looked around the table for dissenters. There were none. All that remains, then, is a statement to the press. Will you be happy to leave that with me? He paused for dissent again. Very well. In that case I will release a statement immediately. If you will excuse me, I will leave you in Mr. Lampeths hands. I believe he has organized some tea.
Willow got up and left the room. He went to his own office and sat down by the telephone. He picked up the receiver-then paused, and smiled to himself.
I think youve redeemed yourself, Willow," he said quietly.
Willow walked into Lampeths office with an evening newspaper in his hand. It seems its all over, Lampeth, he said. Jankers has told the press that all the agreements are signed.
Lampeth looked at his watch. "Time for a gin, he said. Have one?
Please.
Lampeth opened the cabinet and poured gin into two glasses. As for its being all over, Im not sure. We havent got our money yet. He opened a bottle of tonic and poured half into each glass.
Oh, we'll get the money. The forgers would hardly have bothered to set this up just to cause trouble. Besides, the sooner they give us the cash, the sooner the police lay off."
Its not just the money. Lampeth sat down heavily and swallowed half his drink. It will be years before the art world recovers from a blow like this. The public now thinks were all frauds who dont know the difference between a masterpiece and a seaside postcard.
I must say, er ... " Willow hesitated.
Well?
I cant help feeling they have proved a point. Quite what it is I dont know. But something very profound.
On the contrary-it's simple. Theyve proved that the high prices paid for great works of art reflect snobbery rather than artistic appreciation. We all knew that already. Theyve proved that a real Pissarro is worth no more than an expert copy. Well, its the public who inflate the price, not the dealers.
Willow smiled and gazed out of the window. I know. Still, we make our percentage on the inflation.
What do they expect? We couldnt make a living out of fifty-pound canvases.