‘To put you out of your misery just a tiny bit, sir,’ said the inspector, ‘perhaps I should tell you that I’ve also been in contact with my colleagues at Scotland Yard. They, in turn, have close contact with His Majesty’s Customs to whom you are well known on account of your occasional smuggling exploits. Once again, sir, your dealings with Mr Sengupta?’
‘Oh, very well,’ said Richman, impatiently. ‘Sengupta paid me to bring a little something into England.’
‘And would that “little something” be a Nepalese emerald, by any chance?’
‘Good God, Inspector, how did you–?’
‘I believe the customary response is, “I’m a detective, sir; it’s my job to know.”’
Richman looked defeated.
‘There are some other things I know, too, sir, but there’s a dismaying number of things which still elude me. I know, for instance, that you brought the gem into the country in a secret compartment in the late Mr Holloway’s trumpet case. I strongly suspect that there was some sort of trouble in London – a rival gang, perhaps – which necessitated your sudden flit to Gloucestershire. I know that Mr Haddock is a fence and so I suspect that he’s involved in the deal somewhere. But I still don’t know who rifled through your traps and bludgeoned your friend, and I don’t know where the gem is now. I have more than enough to charge you with some serious offences, Mr Richman. Will murder be one of them?’
Richman sat in silence for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. Finally he spoke.
‘You must understand, Inspector, that I never for a moment anticipated that any of this would happen. I’ve known Praveer for a long time; he’s another ragtime enthusiast. I knew he was a dealer in, shall we say, “unusual” Indian objets, and he knew of my lack of squeamishness concerning moving things across borders. When he approached me in Paris I thought it was just going to be a simple matter of bringing a gemstone to London and passing it on to his buyer. Nothing to it. Easy money. And so it seemed. At first. We got it past Customs without a hitch and I was waiting in London for Praveer’s man to contact me. But that was when it all started to become a little unpleasant.’
‘Unpleasant how, sir?’ prompted the inspector.
‘My flat was broken into. Twice. At first I thought, as you did, that some London gang had got wind of our venture and had decided to try to acquire the gem for themselves. But then I met The Giant.’
‘And who is “The Giant”, sir?’ asked the inspector, though I suspected he had guessed as well as I.
‘No idea what his name is, but he’s a huge Indian bloke. And I mean really, really huge.’
‘And what happened when you met him?’
‘It was during the third burglary. I came back from a rather successful night at a club in the West End to find the door to my flat wide open. By this time I was a little spooked, I can tell you, so I’d taken to carrying a cosh in my pocket. If someone was going to try it on, I was going to make sure I could give hime what for. So I crept cautiously in, holding the cosh ready to strike, and there he was, in my front room, larger than life and twice as terrifying. I said, “Now listen here, what do you think you’re doing,” and brandished the cosh at him. He just put down the cigarette box he’d been looking in, and sort of lumbered towards me. I went to strike him but he just brushed me aside like I was a rag doll and lumbered out.’
‘He didn’t say anything?’
‘Not a word. He didn’t look especially concerned, either. He just went out, down the stairs and out into the street. I looked out of the window and saw him just casually waddling down the road.’
‘And you’ve no idea who he was?’
‘None whatsoever, Inspector. But I can put two and two together as well as the next man. I’d smuggled a jewel on behalf of a man known for dealing in those “unusual” items–’
‘Shall we stop being so coy and just admit that they’re stolen, sir?’
‘If you like, Inspector,’ said Richman. ‘Although they’re not always stolen, as such. Sometimes it’s just that their removal from their country of origin is prohibited, even by their legitimate owners. Praveer isn’t averse to shifting the odd bent item, and I’d be lying if I tried to paint him as some sort of saint, but he’s more often an agent for people who find themselves unable to liquidate their assets because of some interfering local laws about removing national treasures.’
‘As you wish, sir. So you knew you were in possession of an “interesting” item…’
‘Yes. But I hadn’t twigged until that point who might be interested in it. It looked for all the world like the gem’s original owners might be wanting it back.’
‘Why not just pass it on to the buyer in London?’ asked Lady Hardcastle. ‘Then it would be his problem.’
‘That was exactly what I was going to do. But the buyer in London, or his agent at least, had gone to a party in Gloucestershire. At the house of a family that I’d introduced him to.’
‘The redoubtable Mr Haddock,’ said the inspector. ‘And so you called Clarissa Farley-Stroud, offered your services, and got down here as quickly as you could.’
‘It seemed to kill two birds with one stone,’ said Richman. ‘I could get out of London and away from that monster, and I could offload the gem to Fishface and make it, as you said, his problem.’
‘And all this time the gem had been in Mr Holloway’s trumpet case?’ I said.
‘Seemed the safest place,’ said Richman. ‘I managed to get in touch with Fishface and we arranged to meet in the interval; you know, try to keep it casual, like an incidental meeting if anyone saw us. I was going to take him into the library, get the gem, give it to him, collect the rest of my fee and try to forget all about it.’
‘So what went wrong?’ asked the inspector.
‘No idea. He never showed up.’
‘I’ve asked you this once before, sir, but I think we both know I didn’t get an honest answer. Would you now tell us, please, exactly what happened when you left the ballroom that night.’
‘I went round to the library and waited outside–’
‘Did anyone see you?’
‘Couldn’t say, Inspector. There was a man in the corridor, up by the far door of the library by that ghastly Chinese cupboard, but he had his back to me and was walking away so I don’t imagine he noticed me. I hung around for as long as seemed safe, but there was no sign of Fishface or Nelson, so I got back to the ballroom before anyone wondered why I was hanging around in the passageway.’
The inspector made a few more notes, but he seemed to be done for now.
‘Right you are, then, Mr Richman. There’s a superintendent from Scotland Yard on his way to interview Miss Montgomery, but I’m sure he’ll want a word with you, too. You can go, but stay in the house.’
‘Interview Sylvia?’ said Richman.
‘Oh, yes, sir, sorry, more bad news. Your songbird is well on her way to being a jailbird. She’s a jewel thief.’
‘She’s a what?’
‘She’s Olive Sewell, a well known jewel thief, sir. She lifted some of the hostess’s jewellery while you were trying to offload your stolen gemstone. You might consider a name change for the band. How about Roland Richman’s Reprobates’ Revue?’
‘Very droll, Inspector, very droll. I’ll be in the ballroom.’