were ruinous and his terms outrageous. He used to insist that his victims—excuse me, his clients—leave several valuable items with him as collateral. Paintings, statues . . . even furniture, if it was fine enough.”
“And gems?”
“Oh, yes, he was especially fond of gems. Needless to say, very few of his clients ever managed to reclaim their property—even when they paid off their loans.”
Sebastian took a sip of his tea. “Someone told me there must be any number of people in London who are glad to see Eisler dead. I’m beginning to understand what they meant.”
Bloomsfield nodded. “I heard recently of a young nobleman who took the family’s emeralds to have them cleaned before presenting them to his new wife, only to discover they were all paste. His mother’d had them copied and hocked the original stones to Eisler to pay her gambling debts. The young marquis threatened Eisler with legal action—they weren’t hers to sell, after all. But in the end he gave it up.”
“Why?” asked Hero.
Bloomsfield lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I never heard. But it’s not unusual. Did you know that more than half the gems in the British Crown Jewels are paste? The originals have been pawned over the years to pay for our various illustrious monarchs’ wars.”
“Not to mention their mistresses,” said Hero.
Bloomsfield’s soft brown eyes danced with amusement. “That too.”
Sebastian said, “I understand Eisler was handling the sale of a large diamond for someone. Did he do that sort of thing? Negotiate the sale of jewels for other people?”
“Frequently, yes.”
“Why?” asked Hero. “I mean, I can see why Eisler would do it, since he’d obviously make a fat commission on the transaction. But why wouldn’t a gem’s owner simply sell it openly?”
“Typically because they don’t want anyone to know that they’re selling. In general, if you hear a collector is selling one or more of his specimens, it’s a fairly good indicator that he’s found himself in financial difficulties. And that’s the kind of information most men don’t care to make common knowledge.”
“Do you know of any gem collectors who are selling at the moment? Particularly someone with a large blue diamond?”
Bloomsfield shook his head, although he looked vaguely troubled. “I haven’t heard of anyone, no.”
“What?” asked Sebastian, watching him.
“Did you say a large
blue
diamond?”
“That’s right. Why?”
“It’s just . . . They’re very rare, you know. The only specimen I can think of that might fit such a description—” He broke off and shook his head again. “No, that’s impossible.”
“So you do know of such a diamond?”
The old man leaned forward in his seat, his hands gripping the chair’s arms, a surge of excitement quickening his voice. “I’m not aware of a large blue diamond currently in anyone’s collection. But I do know of such a specimen that was lost. And what is interesting is that it was lost exactly twenty years ago this month. Are you familiar with
le diamant bleu de la Couronne
?” He glanced from Sebastian to Hero.
Both shook their heads. “No.”
“In English it’s known as the ‘French Blue.’ It was once part of the French Crown Jewels. They say it came out of India as an enormous roughly cut triangular stone of over a hundred carats. Louis XIV bought it for the French Crown and had it recut and set, I believe, into a cravat pin.”
“Must have made a very large cravat pin,” said Hero.
Bloomsfield’s eyes twinkled. “True. But then, Louis XIV was quite a large man. His successor Louis XV had it remade as the focal point of a magnificent Emblem of the Golden Fleece.”
“What happened to it?”
“It disappeared along with the rest of the French Crown Jewels during the Revolution—the week of 11 September 1792, to be exact. It has never been recovered.”
“The twenty years is significant,” said Sebastian.
“And gems?”
“Oh, yes, he was especially fond of gems. Needless to say, very few of his clients ever managed to reclaim their property—even when they paid off their loans.”
Sebastian took a sip of his tea. “Someone told me there must be any number of people in London who are glad to see Eisler dead. I’m beginning to understand what they meant.”
Bloomsfield nodded. “I heard recently of a young nobleman who took the family’s emeralds to have them cleaned before presenting them to his new wife, only to discover they were all paste. His mother’d had them copied and hocked the original stones to Eisler to pay her gambling debts. The young marquis threatened Eisler with legal action—they weren’t hers to sell, after all. But in the end he gave it up.”
“Why?” asked Hero.
Bloomsfield lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I never heard. But it’s not unusual. Did you know that more than half the gems in the British Crown Jewels are paste? The originals have been pawned over the years to pay for our various illustrious monarchs’ wars.”
“Not to mention their mistresses,” said Hero.
Bloomsfield’s soft brown eyes danced with amusement. “That too.”
Sebastian said, “I understand Eisler was handling the sale of a large diamond for someone. Did he do that sort of thing? Negotiate the sale of jewels for other people?”
“Frequently, yes.”
“Why?” asked Hero. “I mean, I can see why Eisler would do it, since he’d obviously make a fat commission on the transaction. But why wouldn’t a gem’s owner simply sell it openly?”
“Typically because they don’t want anyone to know that they’re selling. In general, if you hear a collector is selling one or more of his specimens, it’s a fairly good indicator that he’s found himself in financial difficulties. And that’s the kind of information most men don’t care to make common knowledge.”
“Do you know of any gem collectors who are selling at the moment? Particularly someone with a large blue diamond?”
Bloomsfield shook his head, although he looked vaguely troubled. “I haven’t heard of anyone, no.”
“What?” asked Sebastian, watching him.
“Did you say a large
blue
diamond?”
“That’s right. Why?”
“It’s just . . . They’re very rare, you know. The only specimen I can think of that might fit such a description—” He broke off and shook his head again. “No, that’s impossible.”
“So you do know of such a diamond?”
The old man leaned forward in his seat, his hands gripping the chair’s arms, a surge of excitement quickening his voice. “I’m not aware of a large blue diamond currently in anyone’s collection. But I do know of such a specimen that was lost. And what is interesting is that it was lost exactly twenty years ago this month. Are you familiar with
le diamant bleu de la Couronne
?” He glanced from Sebastian to Hero.
Both shook their heads. “No.”
“In English it’s known as the ‘French Blue.’ It was once part of the French Crown Jewels. They say it came out of India as an enormous roughly cut triangular stone of over a hundred carats. Louis XIV bought it for the French Crown and had it recut and set, I believe, into a cravat pin.”
“Must have made a very large cravat pin,” said Hero.
Bloomsfield’s eyes twinkled. “True. But then, Louis XIV was quite a large man. His successor Louis XV had it remade as the focal point of a magnificent Emblem of the Golden Fleece.”
“What happened to it?”
“It disappeared along with the rest of the French Crown Jewels during the Revolution—the week of 11 September 1792, to be exact. It has never been recovered.”
“The twenty years is significant,” said Sebastian.
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