The Collected Short Stories by Jeffrey Archer Page A

who had been up all night and would be waiting patiently for him at the bank.
    â€œI didn’t ask the price,” Consuela replied. “You’re so much cleverer than I am at that sort of thing,” she added, as she slipped into a navy silk blouse.
    Victor glanced at his watch. “How far away is it?” he asked.
    â€œJust across the road, in Bond Street, my darling,” Consuela replied. “I shouldn’t have to delay you for too long.” She knew exactly what was going through her husband’s mind.
    â€œGood. Then let’s go and look at this little bauble without delay,” he said as he buttoned his shirt.
    While Victor finished dressing, Consuela, with the help of the Financial Times , skillfully guided the conversation back to his triumph of the previous day. She listened once more to the details of the takeover as they left the hotel and strolled up Bond Street together arm in arm.
    â€œProbably saved myself several million,” he told her yet again. Consuela smiled as she led him to the door of the House of Graff.
    â€œSeveral million?” she gasped. “How clever you are, Victor.”
    The security guard quickly opened the door, and this time Consuela found that Mr. Graff was already standing by the table waiting for her. He bowed low, then turned to Victor. “May I offer my congratulations on your brilliant coup, Mr. Rosenheim.” Victor smiled. “How may I help you?”
    â€œMy husband would like to see the Kanemarra heirloom,” said Consuela, before Victor had a chance to reply.
    â€œOf course, madam,” said the proprietor. He stepped behind the table and spread out the black velvet cloth. Once again the assistant removed the magnificent necklace from its stand in the third window, and carefully laid it out on the center of the velvet cloth to show the jewels to their best advantage.
Mr. Graff was about to embark on the piece’s history, when Victor simply said, “How much is it?”
    Mr. Graff raised his head. “This is no ordinary piece of jewelry. I feel …”
    â€œHow much?” repeated Victor.
    â€œIts provenance alone warrants …”
    â€œHow much?”
    â€œThe sheer beauty, not to mention the craftsmanship involved …”
    â€œHow much?” asked Victor, his voice now rising.
    â€œThe word ‘unique’ would not be inappropriate.”
    â€œYou may be right, but I still need to know how much it’s going to cost me,” said Victor, who was beginning to sound exasperated.
    â€œOne million pounds, sir,” Graff said in an even tone, aware that he could not risk another superlative.
    â€œI’ll settle at half a million, no more,” came back the immediate reply.
    â€œI am sorry to say, sir,” said Graff, “that with this particular piece, there is no room for bargaining”
    â€œThere’s always room for bargaining, whatever one is selling,” said Victor. “I repeat my offer. Half a million.”
    â€œI fear that in this case, sir …”
    â€œI feel confident that you’ll see things my way, given time,” said Victor. “But I don’t have that much time to spare this morning, so I’ll write out a check for half a million, and leave you to decide whether you wish to cash it or not.”
    â€œI fear you are wasting your time, sir,” said Graff. “I cannot let the Kanemarra heirloom go for less than one million.”
    Victor took a checkbook from his inside pocket, unscrewed the top of his fountain pen, and wrote out the words “Five hundred thousand pounds only” below the name of the bank that bore his name. His wife took a discreet pace backward.
    Graff was about to repeat his previous comment when he glanced up and observed Mrs. Rosenheim silently pleading with him to accept the check.

    A look of curiosity came over his face as Consuela continued her urgent mime.
    Victor tore out