Part 30 (1/2)

Very upset.'

I reached into my s.h.i.+rt pocket and drew out the print-out from the Wizard.

'Do you want to see?' I asked. 'Read there.'

After a hesitation he took the paper, sat back on the stool and read the entry: Antwerp say 5 of the first batch of rough are CZ.

Don't want to believe it.

Infinite sadness Priority 1.

Arrange meetings Ipswich?

Undecided. d.a.m.nation!

'Greville used to write his thoughts in a notebook,' I said. 'In there it says, ”Infinite sadness is not to trust an old friend.” '

'So what?'

'Since Greville died,' I said, 'someone has been trying to find his diamonds to steal them from me. That someone had to be someone who knew they were there to be found. Greville kept the fact that he'd bought them very quiet for security reasons. He didn't tell even his staff. But of course you yourself knew, as it was for you he bought them.'

He said again,'So what?'

'If you remember,' I said, still conversationally, 'someone broke into Greville's office after he died and stole things like an address book and an appointments diary. I began to think the thief had also stolen any other papers which might point to where the diamonds were, like letters or invoices But I know now there weren't any such papers to be found there, because Greville was full of distrust. lKlis distrust dated from the day the Antwerp cutters fold him five of his stones were cubic zirconia, which was about three weeks before he died.'

Pross Greville's friend, said nothing.

'Greville bought the diamonds' I went on, 'from a sightholder based in Antwerp who sent them by messenger to his London house. There he measured them and weighed them and signed for them. Then it would be reasonable to suppose that he showed them to you, his customer. Or showed you twenty-five of them, perhaps Then he sent that twenty-five back to Antwerp by the Euro-Securo couriers Five diamonds had mysteriously become cubic zirconia, and yes it was an entirely stupid thing to do, because the subst.i.tution was bound to be discovered almost at once, and you knew it would be. Had to be. I'd think you reckoned Greville would never believe it of you, but would swear the five stones had to have been swapped by someone in the couriers or the cutters in Antwerp, and he would collect the insurance in due course, and that would be that. You would be five diamonds to the good, and he would have lost nothing.'

'You can't prove it,' he said flatly.

'No, I can't prove it. But Greville was full of sorrow and distrust, and why should he be if he thought his stones had been taken by strangers?'

I looked with some of Greville's own sadness at Prospero Jenks. A likeable, entertaining genius whose feelings for my brother had been strong and long-lasting, whose regret at his death had been real.

'I'd think.' I said, 'that after your long friends.h.i.+p, after all the treasures he'd brought you, after the pink and green tourmaline, after your tremendous success, that he could hardly bear your treachery.'

'Stop it,' he said sharply. 'It's bad enough . . .

He shut his mouth tight and shook his head, and seemed to sag internally.

'He forgave me,' he said.

He must have thought I didn't believe him.

He said wretchedly, 'I wished I hadn't done it almost from the beginning, if you want to know. It was just an impulse. He left the diamonds here while he went off to do a bit of shopping, and I happened to have some rough CZ th;, right size in those drawers, as I often do, waiting for when I want special cutting, and I just...

exchanged them. Like you said. I didn't think he'd lose by it.'

'He knew, though,' I said. 'He knew you, and he knew a lot about thieves, being a magistrate. Another of the things he wrote was, ”If laws are inconvenient, ignore them, they don't apply to you.” '

'Stop it. Stop it. He forgave me.'

'When?'

'In Ipswich. I went to meet him there.'

I lifted my head. 'Ipswich. Orwell Hotel, P. 3.30 pm,'

I said.

'What? Yes.' He seemed unsurprised that I should know. He seemed to be looking inwards to an unendurable landscape.

'I saw him die,' he said.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

'I saw the scaffolding fall on him,' he said.

He'd stunned me to silence.

'We talked in the hotel. In the lounge there. It was almost empty... then we walked down the street to where I'd left my car. We said goodbye. He crossed the road and walked on, and I watched him. I wanted him to look back and wave . . . but he didn't.'

Forgiveness was one thing, I thought, but friends.h.i.+p had gone. What did he expect? Absolution and comfort?

Perhaps Greville in time would have given those too, but I couldn't.

Prospero Jenks with painful memory said, 'Grey never knew what happened . . . There wasn't any warning.

Just a clanging noise and metal fa,'ling and men with it. Cras.h.i.+ng down fast. It buried him. I couldn't see him... I ran across the road to pull him and there were bodies . . . and he . . . he . . . I thought he was dead already. His head was bleeding . . . there was a metal bar in his stomach and another had ripped into his leg . . . it was . . . I can't . . . I try to forget but I see it all the time.'

I waited and in a while he went on.

'I didn't move him. Couldn't. There was so much blood . . . and a man lying over his legs . . . and another man groaning. People came running... then the police . . . it was just chaos . . .'

He stopped again. and I said,'When the police came, why didn't you stay with Greville and help him? Why didn't you identify him to them, even?'

His genuine sorrow was flooded with a shaft of alarm. The dismay was momentary, and he shrugged it off.

'You knovw how it is.' He gave me a little-boy shamefaced look, muth the same as when he'd admitted to changing the stones. 'Don't get involved. I didn't want to be dragged in . . . I thought he was dead.'

Somewhere along the line, I thought, he was lying to me. Not about seeing the accident: his description of Greville's injuries had been piercingly accurate.

'Did you simply . . . drive off?' I asked bleakly.

'No, I couldn't. Not for ages. The police cordoned off the street and took endless statements. Something about criminal responsibility and insurance claims. But I couldn't help them. I didn't see why the scaffolding fell. I felt sick because of the blood . . . I sat in my car till they let us drive out. They'd taken Grev off in an ambulance before that . . . and the bar was still sticking out of his stomach . . .'