Part 9 (1/2)

'Mmmm.' The man held up his work to catch the light, nodding with satisfaction.

'They had an automaton there that played chess.'

'Really?' The man continued to nod. 'That would not be too difficult. Some pre*set moves. Two players, a board. Plenty of room for the mechanism.'

'Except,' the Doctor went on, 'that it really did did play chess. A man, made of hollow metal with flexible arms. He sat beside a board and people paid to play chess against it. It usually won.' play chess. A man, made of hollow metal with flexible arms. He sat beside a board and people paid to play chess against it. It usually won.'

The man let the eyegla.s.s fall from his eye into his palm as he regarded the Doctor. 'Surely that is not possible.'

'That was why people paid. In fact it was very simple.'

The man leaned forward eagerly. 'Tell me.'

The Doctor shrugged. 'It was a midget.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'It was a midget,' the Doctor repeated. 'Hidden inside the metal man. He was quite good,' he added.

'That's cheating,' the man said, his tone betraying his contempt for the very idea.

'That was what the people said when they found out,' the Doctor admitted. 'Though given that the automaton is an imitation of real life, using a live person to imitate an automaton has a certain symmetry. Don't you think?'

The man grunted in a way that suggested strongly that he did not.

The Doctor shrugged. 'I thought you might be interested, that was all. Another example of the utility of smaller mechanisms. I can see that you're busy.'

'Feel free to look around,' the man said.

Thank you. I will.' The Doctor turned and looked back down the aisle of automata. The monkey had finished puffing smoke and was silent and still once more. Further along the line, a diminutive butler held a tray of gla.s.ses in one hand and a bottle in the other. A lion crouched over a terrified woman whose hand was up to ward off its jaws. A soldier stood, rifle shouldered. A steam train waited patiently on a circle of track on a table close to the door.

'Perhaps another day,' the Doctor said as he walked past the mechanical figures. 'When I have the time.' He turned at the door. 'Thank you,' he said.

The man glanced up again briefly, but the Doctor was already stepping out of the shop. He turned abruptly, and went into the antique shop next door.

It was an impressive collection, but not worth anything like what the man was asking. Garfield Gelt shook his head sadly and made an offer.

'Is that really the best you can do?' the man asked. He was a big man, broad and powerful, and the way he leaned forward was intimidating.

Gelt simply shrugged. 'I might manage slightly more.' He picked up a figurine made of silver and examined it for the third time. He sighed. 'Very impressive, I agree. But what can I say? The market just is not there for these... items. Not for something so...'

'Eclectic?'

'Yes, a good term.' Gelt looked up to see who had spoken. He had not heard the door of the shop open, but the voice was not the big man's. Sure enough. standing beside them was a newcomer. His eyes were wide with interest and intelligence, his face framed by a cascade of brown hair. Was there a hint of grey in it, or was it a trick of the light? Something about the man spoke of more years than his appearance would indicate.

'Why, it's Mr Nepath, isn't it?' The newcomer seemed surprised to find the big man there. He extended his hand, and the other man shook it warily.

'Doctor. What brings you here?'

'Oh this and that. One thing and another.' He pushed past Nepath and examined the items spread across the counter. 'Quite a collection.' He turned to Nepath. 'Are you selling? I thought you valued your bric*a*brac more highly than mere money.'

'Some duplicate items. Close matches, that's all,' Nepath said. his eyes narrowing. 'Hardly bric*a*brac.'

'My apologies.' The Doctor picked up a smooth sphere of metal cloisonne finished. 'Chinese?' he asked.

Nepath took the sphere from him and replaced it on the counter. 'Tibetan.'

'Of course. So how much do you want for it?'

'Now wait a moment, sir,' Gelt said quickly. He did not want to see the items disappear from under his nose. They were worth rather more than he was offering, he knew. They might take a while to sell, but eventually he would more than make his money back.

'Are you interested in them, Doctor?' Nepath asked, cutting across Gelt.

The Doctor seemed to consider a moment. Then he shook his head. 'Not in these,' he said. His fingers brushed against a figure of the G.o.ddess Kali fas.h.i.+oned from bronze. 'Beautiful though they are.' He paused, and looked closer. 'Interesting,' he murmured.'

'What?' both Nepath and Gelt asked at once.

'I hope you're not trying to pa.s.s this off as genuine fifteenth century work,' the Doctor said to Nepath. He winked at him. 'A seventeenth century copy, surely. The increased emphasis on the shape of the bowls she holds is unmistakable. See how shallow they are, how the flames spring up from them.' He continued before Nepath could respond: 'So why are you selling? Short of storage s.p.a.ce in Lord Urton's house?'

'If you must know,' Nepath said, 'it is a question of cash flow. You know the problem, I feel sure.'

'No, actually.' The Doctor smiled at Nepath.

Gelt cleared his throat. He upped his offer, enough he hoped to regain Nepath's interest. 'Three hundred and fifty,' he said. 'No more.'

'A good price,' the Doctor agreed. 'If that's guineas.'

Gelt felt a sudden b.u.t.terfly of panic. Were the two of them working together? Had this Doctor come in so as to get the offer increased?

'Unless you would care to improve on it, Doctor,' Nepath said.

The Doctor smiled and shook his head. 'I think not. But thank you all the same. I do have an interest in such things. But in genuine artefacts.' His eyes widened. 'Not bric*a*brac.'

Nepath flinched.

Gelt felt hurt despite himself. 'Do you mind, sir?'

'What would you be interested in, Doctor?' Nepath asked softly.

The Doctor's reply was equally quiet. 'What have you to offer?'

Nepath's fingers drummed on the top of the counter a moment. 'You are a man of means, I take it.'

The Doctor shrugged, raised an eyebrow. 'Men of means don't advertise the fact,' he said modestly. He brushed a speck of dust from his stained coat.