“Indeed. Might I be bold enough to ask to see the ring, madam?”
“Of course, sir. You said your sister saw my small advertisement in the magazine at her modiste’s.”
Mr Craddock had advised all of Babington’s known victims to place a discreet notice in the periodical distributed to modistes in town. Dante had spent days spying on the publisher until assured of his innocence.
“Yes, she noticed your elegant description and applied to the publisher for your direction. She believed it would make a perfect gift for my darling Anna.”
Various women had applied to the publisher. Dante had traced all but one who had recently vacated a lodging house in Holborn. No doubt the woman sold favours for a living and knew when it was prudent to disappear.
Dante peered through the gap in the door and watched Miss Sands hand Babington the green leather box. The cad removed the sapphire fleur-de-lis ring and held it up to the light.
“Some consider it rather crudely made,” she said, referring to Mr Craddock’s appraisal, “but I’ve been told it’s sixteenth century.”
“I’m not sure I would agree,” Babington replied. “I’m more inclined to think it a replica, albeit a rather convincing one. Might you have the original receipt or proof of purchase?”
Presumably, Craddock had informed him of the lack of provenance.
“Sadly not. Wilfred bought it in Stratford not long after we married but kept no paperwork.” Miss Sands paused. “You should know I require two hundred pounds for the ring, sir.”
“Two hundred pounds for a secondhand ring?” Babington sucked in a breath. “Be reasonable. I can give you a hundred in notes now, Mrs Monroe.”
Dante’s hands thrummed with the need to pummel the devious scoundrel. He wished they would hurry to the part where Babington gave the forged cheque and slipped the ring into his pocket.
“A hundred! Heavens. I cannot part with it for less than one hundred and eighty pounds, sir.”
“Hmm.” Babington fell silent while he continued examining the midnight blue sapphires. “That is more than I wished to pay.”
“I have someone else calling to look at the ring later this afternoon,” Miss Sands said, not wishing to make it too easy for Babington. “Perhaps you should think on the matter, call tomorrow to see if it’s still for sale.”
No doubt Babington’s heart raced at the prospect of losing such a valuable piece. By Dante’s calculation, it was worth well over three hundred pounds.
“It is exactly what I’m looking for.” Babington sounded resigned to the fact he would have to raise his offer. “Might you take a cheque written against Sir James Esdaile and Company? I took the liberty of writing it for one hundred and sixty pounds, presuming it was a fair offer for a ring of this description.”
Babington delved into his coat pocket and presented the crisp note.
Miss Sands hesitated. “I’m afraid I must push you to a little higher, sir.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Mrs Monroe.”
“The money must supplement my paltry jointure.”
“Then accept the cheque along with ten pounds. That’s the highest I’m willing to go.”
Based on the fact Babington intended to leave a forged cheque, he could have offered the full price, but he seemed to enjoy the cat-and-mouse game and did not wish to rouse his victim’s suspicions.
“Very well.” Miss Sands accepted Babington’s payment, asked if he required written confirmation of the purchase, or if he would like to take tea. “A quiet house can be a depressing place, and I should like to hear more about your wife and son.”
?
?Proof won’t be necessary.” Babington stood. “And I am eager to hurry home and present the gift to my wife. Perhaps I might arrange another time to call and take tea. I’m certain Anna would like to accompany me.”
“That would be wonderful.” Miss Sands clapped her hands. “But forgive me, I’m a little confused.”
“Confused?”
“Who will you bring to tea when we both know you’re not married?”
Good Lord! Dante thought he was to deal with Babington, prevent him from leaving and confront him with the truth. He’d not expected her to question the scoundrel’s story.