“Perfectly, sir, perfectly. I regret, however, that I cannot oblige you, as I sold those same candlesticks to one of my customers late yesterday afternoon. He is a great collector of curios of all kinds, and, like yourself, sir, was greatly taken with the beauty of the vieux Vienne Cupids. But I have some very beautiful candlesticks, both antique and modern, that you might care to look at——”
“No,” said Volenski, whose excited brain refused to take in the Jew’s assertion, “I want those particular ones—I must have them—no matter what I pay for them. Here,” he added, as he noticed that Davies was beginning to eye him suspiciously, “is my introduction from your Viennese partner,” and he handed him Grünebaum’s card; “you will see by that, that I am a friend, and if you will deal fairly with me, no harm shall come to you, but if you refuse to help me to regain my property—for those candlesticks are mine—I will find means of setting the police on your track as a receiver of stolen goods. Now bring me those candlesticks at once, and name your price for them. I am in a hurry, as I want to catch a train.”
Isaac Davies took his accomplice’s card, and turning it about between his fingers, still eyed Volenski with a remnant of suspicion.
“I tell you no harm shall come to you,” said Iván impatiently. “I am even willing to pay you a very handsome price for those candlesticks; you see, therefore, that you can but gain by being frank with me. Grünebaum gave me this card, that you should have no fear.”
“Sir, I have told you the truth,” said Isaac Davies at last drily, adding with an indifferent shrug, “as for your threats, they have no weight with me; I am free from blame. Grünebaum’s is a good and well-known firm in Vienna. I have a perfect right to buy goods from him without falling under the suspicion of receiving stolen property; I deny that the articles Grünebaum sends me are stolen, and I defy you to prove it. Whatever information, therefore, I choose to give you, I do so because my Viennese correspondent has recommended you to me, and not from any fear of your threats or the police.”
“Then,” gasped Iván, who was beginning to realise that the Jew was telling the truth, and the candlesticks were really out of his reach once more, “those candlesticks are sold?”
“To a Mr. James Hudson, of 108, Curzon Street, Mayfair, a great collector of antiquities and great connoisseur. You may probably have heard of him. No? Well, I sent him those candlesticks to look at yesterday, knowing well that if he saw them, he would take a fancy to them. They were very beautiful things, sir, and if you happen to have anything more of the same class of goods I shall be very happy——”
“To the point, man. For God’s sake tell me, did he buy them?”
“He did, sir,” said Isaac Davies, nettled at this curious customer’s impatience. “I knew he would. What is the next thing I can do for you, sir? Nothing? Good-morning, sir.”
And seeing another client entering his shop, Isaac Davies turned on his heel and took no further notice of poor Volenski, annihilated by this last most cruel blow of all.