And Thereby Hangs a Tale (2 page)

Arabella turned out to be correct, because when
the doorman appeared, he took one look at Jeremy and immediately
unlocked the door.

'Good morning, sir. How may I help you?'

'I was hoping to buy an engagement ring.'

'Of course, sir. Please step inside.'

Jeremy followed him down a long corridor, glancing
at photographs on the walls that depicted the history of the company since its foundation
in 1888. Once they had reached the end of the corridor, the doorman melted away,
to be replaced by a tall, middle-aged man wearing a well-cut dark suit, a white
silk shirt and a black tie.

'Good morning, sir,' he said, giving a
slight bow. 'My name is Crombie,' he added, before ushering Jeremy into his
private lair. Jeremy walked into a small, well-lit room. In the centre
was an oval table covered in a black velvet cloth, with comfortable-looking
leather chairs on either side. The assistant waited until Jeremy had sat down
before he took the seat opposite him.

'Would you care for some coffee, sir?'
Crombie enquired solicitously.

'No, thank you,' said Jeremy, who had no
desire to hold up proceedings any longer than necessary, for fear he might lose
his nerve.

'And how may I help you today, sir?' Crombie
asked, as if Jeremy were a regular customer.

'I've just become engaged...'

'Many congratulations, sir.'

'Thank you,' said Jeremy, beginning to feel
a little more relaxed. 'I'm looking for a ring, something a bit special,' he
added, still stick-ing to the script.

'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 carrying a large oak box which he placed reverentially in the centre
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 cushioncut 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.'

One of the heavyweights opened the door and
led Jeremy out of the room, while the other remained a pace behind him. At the end
of the corridor they stopped outside a door marked 'Private'. The first guard opened
the door and they entered another room which once again contained only one table,
but this time it wasn't covered in a velvet cloth. Behind it sat a man who
looked as if he'd been waiting for them. He didn't invite Jeremy to sit, as
there wasn't another chair in the room.

'My name is Granger,' the man said without expression.
'I've been the head of security at De Beers for the past fourteen years, having
previously served as a detective inspector with the Metropolitan Police. I can
tell you there's nothing I haven't seen, and no story I haven't heard before.
So do not imagine even for one moment that you're going to get away with this,
young man.'

How quickly the fawning sir had been
replaced by the demeaning young man, thought Jeremy.

Granger paused to allow the full weight of
his words to sink in. 'First, I am obliged to ask if you are willing to assist
me with my inquiries, or whether you would prefer us to call in the police, in
which case you will be entitled to have a solicitor present.'
'I have nothing to hide,' said Jeremy haughtily, 'so naturally I'm
happy to cooperate.' Back on script.

'In that case,' said Granger, 'perhaps you'd
be kind enough to take off your shoes, jacket and trousers.'

Jeremy kicked off his loafers, which Granger
picked up and placed on the table. He then removed his jacket and handed it to
Granger as if he was his valet. After taking off his trousers he stood there,
trying to look appalled at the treatment he was being subjected to.

Granger spent some considerable time pulling
out every pocket of Jeremy's suit, then checking the lining and the seams.
Having failed to come up with anything other than a handkerchief -- there was no
wallet, no credit card, nothing that could identify the suspect, which made him
even more suspicious -- Granger placed the suit back on the table. 'Your tie?'
he said, still sounding calm.

Jeremy undid the knot, pulled off the old Etonian
tie and put it on the table. Granger ran the palm of his right hand across the blue
stripes, but again, nothing. 'Your shirt.'

Jeremy undid the buttons slowly, then handed
his shirt over. He stood there shivering in just his pants and socks.

As Granger checked the shirt, for the first time
the hint of a smile appeared on his lined face when he touched the collar. He
pulled out two silver Tiffany collar stiffeners. Nice touch, Arabella, thought
Jeremy as Granger placed them on the table, unable to mask his disappointment.
He handed the shirt back to Jeremy, who replaced the collar stiffeners before
putting his shirt and tie back on.

'Your underpants, please.'

Jeremy pulled down his pants and passed them
across. Another inspection which he knew would reveal nothing. Granger handed them
back and waited for him to pull them up before saying, 'And finally your socks.'

Jeremy pulled off his socks and laid them
out on the table. Granger was now looking a little less sure of himself,
but he still checked them carefully before turning his attention to Jeremy's
loafers. He spent some time tapping, pushing and even trying to pull them apart,
but there was nothing to be found. To Jeremy's surprise, he once again asked
him to remove his shirt and tie. When he'd done so, Granger came around from
behind the table and stood directly in front of him. He raised both his hands,
and for a moment Jeremy thought the man was going to hit him. Instead, he
pressed his fingers into Jeremy's scalp and ruffled his hair the way his father
used to do when he was a child, but all he ended up with was greasy nails and a
few stray hairs for his trouble.

'Raise your arms,' he barked. Jeremy held
his arms high in the air, but Granger found nothing under his armpits. He then
stood behind Jeremy. 'Raise one leg,' he ordered.

Jeremy raised his right leg. There was
nothing taped underneath the heel, and nothing between the toes. 'The other
leg,' said Granger, but he ended up with the same result. He walked round to
face him once again.

'Open your mouth.' Jeremy opened wide as if he
was in the dentist's chair. Granger shone a pen around his cavities, but didn't
find so much as a gold tooth. He could not hide
his discomfort as he asked Jeremy to accompany him to the room next door.

'May I put my clothes back on?'

'No, you may not,' came back the immediate reply.

Jeremy followed him into the next room, feeling
apprehensive about what torture they had in store for him. A man in a long
white coat stood waiting next to what looked like a sun bed. 'Would you be kind
enough to lie down so that I can take an X-ray?' he asked.

'Happily,' said Jeremy, and climbed on to
the machine. Moments later there was a click and the two men studied the
results on a screen. Jeremy knew it would reveal nothing.

Swallowing the Kandice Diamond had never been
part of their plan.

'Thank you,' said the man in the white coat courteously,
and Granger added reluctantly, 'You can get dressed now.'

Once Jeremy had his new school tie on, he followed
Granger back into the interrogation room, where Crombie and the two guards were
waiting for them.

'I'd like to leave now,' Jeremy said firmly.

Granger nodded, clearly unwilling to let him
go, but he no longer had any excuse to hold him. Jeremy turned to face Crombie,
looked him straight in the eye and said, 'You'll be hearing from my solicitor.'
He thought he saw him grimace. Arabella's script had been flawless.

The two flat-nosed guards escorted him off the
premises, looking disappointed that he hadn't tried to escape. As Jeremy
stepped back out on to the crowded Piccadilly pavement, he took a deep breath
and waited for his heartbeat to return to something like normal before crossing
the road. He then strolled confidently back into the Ritz and took his seat
opposite Arabella.

'Your coffee's gone cold, darling,' she
said, as if he'd just been to the loo. 'Perhaps you should order another.'

'Same again,' said Jeremy when the waiter appeared
by his side.

'Any problems?' whispered Arabella once the waiter
was out of earshot.