A Long Silence by Nicolas Freeling Page A

velvet-lined tray of expensive stuff in restrained good taste, hitched another of the little Empire chairs across and sat down, the specialist at the patient’s bedside. Van der Valk put his elbow on the little circular table and prepared to have his blood tested. An interesting face, that, a foot from his own. Character there, and determination. Very highly polished. A ‘bad man’? He had no idea. He had been many years a policeman, but had met few bad men. Plenty of silly men, and a great many stupid ones. This was neither. A man, quite certainly, in whom one could grow interested.
    â€˜The quartz crystal vibrator …’ Saint was saying.
    â€˜No, no tuning forks. They sing at one all the time,’ explained Van der Valk inadequately.
    â€˜Then a classic movement. Now this Jaeger le Coultre …’ The boy was still fumbling about pretending to be busy in the back. What was more, Saint had noticed. He glanced at the door and the fine silky eyebrows drew together a little: a slight sidelong glance without turning the head; a flicker of the well—cut nostrils – no, he would say nothing in the presence of a customer.
    â€˜Perregaux … there are very few made, you understand, only a hundred or so a year. These are all really exclusive models.’
    â€˜They’re perhaps a little rich for my blood,’ with a loud self-conscious laugh.
    â€˜I do rather like this one,’ he went on happily – it was a Patek Philippe, not so very dissimilar from the one the boy had had. Would there be any reaction to this extremely light touch, or should one lean a little harder? ‘I mean it’s most distinctive. Not the kind of thing one sees every day.’
    â€˜Quite so.’ No, no flicker. Could he really not have known about that watch? Bosboom had pooh-poohed that as absurd. ‘Should I perhaps look up the prices for you?’
    â€˜I’m afraid they’ll be alarming.’
    â€˜Yes, well, they run at around a thousand, you know. Of course that is solid gold – a real investment.’
    â€˜Not plated?’
    â€˜We sell no plate,’ with a delightfully simple hauteur.
    â€˜Oh dear. I’m quite perplexed. I do rather fancy this one.’
    Van der Valk had a good stare round, with the vacant gaze of someone wondering whether he can afford it: tempted but frightened.
    â€˜Just so. You might of course wish to think it over.’ Mr Saint was evidently well accustomed to people who went off to ‘think it over’ and were no more seen … That boy was still lurking in the shadows: locked in the lavatory as likely as not. He wouldn’t come out now, that was certain.
    â€˜I hardly feel able, alas …’
    â€˜But my dear sir, there is no obligation.’
    â€˜But putting you to this trouble,’ said Van der Valk most earnestly. Saint smiled.
    â€˜There is no trouble.’
    The smile told him much. It was the smile of a man who makes a habit of contempt, and practises it frequently. Of a man who is clever, but his cleverness will never amount tomuch because of his vanity. When their vanity is as great as that, decided Van der Valk, they will bear watching.
    â€˜I think perhaps an Omega or a Longines …’
    â€˜We don’t have them I’m afraid. But of course you will have no difficulty – you see we are jewellers really, not strictly speaking watchmakers except as objects of decorative art.’
    â€˜Something a bit more practical I feel…’
    â€˜But I understand perfectly. Good morning, sir: thank you for your visit.’
    Saint stood a moment thinking.
    â€˜Dicky … You’re not still looking for that shammy leather, are you?’
    â€˜Sorry – er – I had to go to the lavatory.’
    â€˜How sudden,’ said Saint dryly.
    *
    â€˜Louis – you recall you told me of a visit by some bumbledom policeman the other day – can you tell me at all