The next morning brought a large envelope from Ashby’s Auctioneers in London. Inside was a sheaf of photocopied letters, with a covering note from her contact in the sale rooms. He wrote, cheerfully, that they were looking forward to dealing with the silver golem for her client, and that he had been doing a little research of his own.
‘I’m fairly sure that it’s one of the pair I mentioned to you. They both disappeared around 1942 or 1943, but interestingly and rather intriguingly Ashby’s archives have some correspondence relating to one of them. (We have archives going back to the company’s inception in 1853, would you believe?)
‘I thought it might interest you, and your client as well, to see these letters, so I’m enclosing photocopies. And if the figure you’ve been offered really is one of that vanished pair, what we’d like to know, of course, is where the other one is!’
Nell did not dare immerse herself in the photocopied letters yet. She oversaw Beth’s breakfast, then bundled her into the car and whiled away the short journey by chanting through the capitals of the world once more. Beth went happily into school, prophesying she would be top in the geography test, and Nell drove back to Quire Court, forcing herself to keep to the speed limit.
It was ten minutes to nine, and she did not usually open the shop until ten, so she had a clear hour to read the material from Ashby’s. She poured a cup of coffee, carried the envelope into the small office behind her shop, and slid the contents out. There were only four sheets, and with a pleasurable sense of anticipation, she began to read the first.
It was not quite what she had expected. The phrasing – even allowing for the stilted formality of correspondence in the 1940s – was awkward, and Nell thought the letter struck an odd discord.
Department for Criminality and Theft
Post Box No B7921
London
February 1944
Sir
I act for a private firm of investigators who try to trace two silver figures, of Jewish workmanship, in the form of the Jewish emblem, the golem. Both figures were taken illicitly from a synagogue just outside Warsaw several months since, and enquiries inform us that they were smuggled to England by the thieves.
Please could you tell us if you have been offered such a figure, and if so, the present owner’s identity. I remind you that it is a duty of all citizens to assist in cases where crimes may have been committed.
Yours respectfully.
The signature was indecipherable, and across the foot of the letter, someone who was clearly an Ashby’s employee had written, ‘No such department exists. Treat this one with caution – recommend advising Inspector George Fennel at New Scotland Yard. He will know how and if this should be investigated.’
New Scotland Yard,
London
February 1944
Dear Sirs
I am most grateful to you for notifying us of the contents of the somewhat curious letter regarding the apparent theft of two silver golem figures. As you surmised, there is no ‘Department of Criminality and Theft’ here.
Enquiries with our Warsaw people reveal that two silver figures of this description did indeed vanish from a small synagogue in a village just outside Warsaw. However, no formal report seems to have been made of any theft, although you will appreciate that it is difficult to obtain information from that part of Europe at present.
At first look, there seemed no reason to suspect any espionage activity. However, the post box address has proved to be an accommodation address in London’s East End – a small general shop, which we have had under what we term ‘light’ surveillance for some months.
It seems unlikely that enemy agents would go to such trouble to trace the whereabouts of two Jewish objects, however valuable. It is more probable that it is the ‘singer not the song’ that interests them – that it is the present owner or owners of the silver golems they wish to find. We cannot hazard a guess as to why they might be going to all this trouble to find the whereabouts of one or two people, but that is our conclusion.