The Riviera Connection Read Free Page A

remarkable about them. Sold on the right market, they should fetch something like a thousand pounds each.
    He took a pair of callipers from the pocket of his brown suit, and picked up a diamond, took it closer to the window, turned it this way and that, and fire seemed to strike from it as it caught the rays of the sun.
    â€œDon’t tell me that’s a fake,” Bristow said.
    â€œIt’s no more a fake than you are,” Mannering retorted, and gave the taut grin again. “Are you? These are new or recently cut and polished stones. If you really mean ‘could they be big, stolen stuff cut down for resale?’ the answer is yes – except for one thing.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œThey were found here.”
    â€œHmm,” said Bristow, and stretched out his hand for the callipers, picked up a diamond with them, and examined it in much the same way that Mannering had. “Not a hope of identifying them, anyhow. Are you particularly busy?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œHave a look round first, and then we’ll have a chat,” Bristow said. “I’ll want an inventory as soon as I can get it.”
    â€œHave you sent for his partner?” Mannering asked.
    â€œBennett? Yes, he shouldn’t be long,” Bristow said.
    â€œAny objection to the Press knowing that Dale saw me yesterday afternoon, and took the Gramercy jewels away with him?” asked Mannering.
    Bristow’s eyes suddenly became frosty.
    â€œDid he?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWhat are they worth?”
    â€œForty thousand pounds.”
    Bristow said, very softly: “How often did he deal in big stuff like that?”
    â€œWhenever he had a buyer.”
    â€œHow did he pay?”
    â€œCheque against delivery. I put it through his bank just before three yesterday.”
    â€œWho was he going to sell the stuff to?” Bristow asked.
    â€œIt was the one thing he didn’t tell me,” Mannering answered.
    â€œOh, was it.” Bristow’s eyes were half-closed. He stared at Mannering as if trying to make up his mind what to say next. He didn’t smile when at last he broke the long silence. “Listen, John, no tricks. If you know who he expected to sell these to, tell me.”
    â€œHe didn’t say.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t ask?”
    â€œThere’s etiquette even in my business,” Mannering said mildly.
    â€œYou’ll have to teach me,” Bristow growled. His eyes were wide open, now, and his gaze very direct; almost hostile. “Don’t go off on a lone wolf act. I didn’t know Dale had been to see you yesterday. I just wanted a quick opinion on those diamonds and anything else we may find here.”
    Mannering said: “I’ll help where I can. What about this story for the Press?”
    Bristow relaxed.
    â€œYou can go and unburden yourself to your friend Chittering,” he said.
    Mannering found Chittering in the hall talking to a youngish woman with a pale but startlingly attractive face, dark eyes, black hair which looked as if it had resented the brush and comb that morning. Her fine, dark eyes were slightly bloodshot, and she looked tired out.
    â€œI just can’t tell you any more,” she was saying. “Betty’s at the hospital. I didn’t want her to go, but the doctor insisted. She doesn’t remember a thing – it’s the shock, he says.”
    â€œYou’ve been very good,” Chittering said. “Hallo, John. This is Mrs. Gorlay, Bernard Dale’s neighbour from the flat below.”
    There were murmured courtesies, then Mrs. Gorlay went up to her flat; she had easy grace of movement and a figure which drew Chittering’s gaze.
    But Chittering was first and last a newspaperman.
    â€œAny luck?”
    â€œI sold the Gramercy jewels – diamonds, emeralds, sapphires and rubies – to Dale yesterday afternoon,” Mannering said. “Their value, over