Francillon hesitated a moment, then reached below the counter to come up with a large folio, which he laid open atop the case. He flipped through the volume for a moment, as if looking for something, then swung the book around to face Sebastian. “There.” He pointed to a full-page colored illustration. “You see? Here is Louis XV’s insignia of the Golden Fleece.”
Sebastian found himself staring at a gaudy confection of gold and priceless gems. At the center of the piece coiled a magnificent red dragon exquisitely carved from a long oxblood-hued stone. Scores of what looked like small, clear diamonds formed the dragon’s wings and tail; above him rested an enormous clear hexagonal diamond, with a slightly smaller yellow stone above that. But the emblem’s true focus was the enormous deep sapphire blue diamond that nested in the tongues of flame shooting from the dragon’s mouth. From below that, nearly dwarfed by the big blue stone, dangled a golden ram, its fleece formed by dozens of small yellow stones set in gold.
“What’s the big clear diamond at the top, here?” asked Sebastian, pointing to it.
“That was called the Bazu. At nearly thirty-three carats, it was second in size only to the French Blue. The large yellow stones you see here”—he pointed to them—“and here are yellow sapphires, ten carats each. The five brilliant-cut diamonds were five carats each. And there were literally dozens of smaller stones. These here in the fleece were all yellow diamonds.”
“And none of these gems has ever been recovered?”
“Only the carved red dragon—known as the C?te de Bretagne. It was found almost by accident not long after the theft.”
“So we know the piece was broken up.”
“Yes.” Francillon closed the book and tucked it out of sight beneath the counter. “But you must understand that all of this is nothing more than sheer speculation on my part. Eisler said nothing—nothing—to lead me to suspect the diamond he showed me was the French Blue, recut.”
“Who was the sales prospectus intended for?”
“I told you, Eisler never said. But . . .”
“But?” prompted Sebastian.
“It is not hard to guess.”
“You mean Prinny, don’t you?”
Francillon shrugged and rolled his eyes but said nothing.
Sebastian studied the small Frenchman’s tightly held face. “When you first heard Eisler had been murdered, who did you think killed him?”
Francillon let out a startled huff of laughter. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am.”
Francillon cleared his throat again and looked pointedly away. “Well, then, if you must know, I naturally assumed Perlman might have had something to do with it.”
“Who?”
“Samuel Perlman. Eisler’s nephew.”
“Isn’t he the nephew who found Russell Yates standing over Eisler’s body?”
“There is only the one nephew, which is why he is Eisler’s sole heir.”
“I didn’t know that.”
Francillon nodded. “He is Eisler’s sister’s son. Eisler never made any secret of the fact he despised the lad. He was always threatening to disinherit him and leave his money to charity.”
“Exactly what did Perlman do to incur his uncle’s displeasure?”
“Mr. Eisler always considered his nephew . . . profligate.”
“Is he?”
Francillon scratched the tip of his nose. “Let us say simply that Mr. Perlman’s attitudes toward money and expenditures were considerably different from Mr. Eisler’s own. But there was more to the disaffection than that. Mr. Eisler was also beyond incensed by the lad’s recent marriage. He actually told me on Saturday that it was the last straw with him. The last straw.”
“His wife is unsuitable?”
“Eisler considered her so.” A faint smile tightened the skin beside the lapidary’s eyes. “Her father is the Archbishop of Durham.”
“Ah,” said Sebastian. “Tell me: Was Mr. Perlman in any way involved in his uncle’s diamond business?”
Francillon shook his head. “I’d be surprised if Mr. Perlman ever expressed any desire to become involved. But even if he had, Eisler would never have agreed.”
“Because he considered his nephew incompetent? Or dishonest?”
“Because Mr. Eisler never trusted anyone, even his own kin. In my experience, we all view the world through the prism of our own behavior. If a man is honest, he generally assumes that those he meets will deal honestly with him. As a result, he trusts people and takes them at their word—even when he should not. Since he does not lie or cheat himself, it does not occur to him that others might lie or deceive him.”
“And Eisler?”
“Let’s just say that Daniel Eisler went through life in terror of being deceived.”
“Did anyone ever succeed in deceiving him?”
The smile lines beside the lapidary’s eyes deepened. “Even the wiliest of men are sometimes deceived. But if you are asking me for names, I can’t give you any. Eisler kept his secrets well.”
Sebastian inclined his head and turned toward the door. “Thank you for your help.”