Free Florian's Gate by T. Davis Bunn Page B

on the shape and rigidity of a beached blowfish.
    â€œAt first we actually thought the top might have been put on in England. It was just the sort of thing the early nineteenth-century English grand tourers might have done, you see. They’d been in Italy, we thought, and bought themselves this magnificent top, and then either had this bottom handy or puttered around the Continent until they came upon a piece that would fit it. But then we decided the two pieces were set together too snugly to have been made separately, and also the top’s thickness suggests that it was actually designed by a German craftsman.”
    The man made a sound like a strangled bulldog. Trevor missed it, having bent over to roll out one of the drawers, and went on. “As you can see, there are three central concave-fronted drawers set on the most remarkable roller system. Feels light as a feather, but I would imagine each must weigh close on a hundred pounds. Solid as a rock. Immaculate construction, really. The frieze here is in walnut, but so heavily inlaid it is difficult to tell in places. The waved apron here is also heavily gilded, remarkable work. Scrolled legs, all hand carved. The gilded bronze flanking the corners here was a way of framing the work, of course. Must have been spectacular when it was new. These lion-faced handles here are a bit of a mystery, I must say. The only parts that we don’t think were actually made in Prussia. In fact, they were probably bought by mail order, such as it was at the time, from England. The English were masters at the art of making these lion masks.”
    Despite the gentleman’s growing fury, Jeffrey could not help but become caught up in the specialist’s enthusiasm. “How can you be so sure that it was not done by the duke?”
    â€œSimply because it is the grandest of its type.” In contrast to many of his fellow antique specialists, Trevor clearly relished having someone around who shared his fascination. “He was a real style leader, this chap the crown prince. And the king, you see, his uncle, was never really interested in the whole subject. When Crown Prince Friedrich then became Kaiser, he carried his involvement along with him. Stayed right at the center of the whole style thing throughout his reign. Even retained this fellow Fiedler as his own personal cabinet maker. That of course doesn’t mean his furniture was all Fiedler did, but it does make it highly unlikely that he would risk challenging his uncle in such a way before rising to the top of the heap, as it were.”
    The gentleman demanded, “How did it come to be here?”
    â€œWell, there you are,” Trevor replied eagerly. “The thing about all such articles is that with time they become unfashionable. This particular item was eventually given to the Russian ambassador, that much we’ve been able to piece together from the archives in Germany. It was later sold by his widow, some thirty years after. By then, of course, it had become so unfashionable it was probably used to store dirty laundry in some minor bedroom of their secondary palace.”
    â€œDisgraceful,” the gentleman rumbled.
    â€œYes, I suppose so,” the young man replied. “Of course, there just is no accounting for taste.”
    The gentleman rounded on him. “I mean that it is disgraceful for such a piece of German heritage to ever have left German soil.”
    â€œMy dear fellow,” Trevor replied. “This particular piece has never set foot in Germany. When it left the Kaiser’s palace for parts unknown, that stretch of earth was still proudly Prussian.”
    The gentleman ignored him. “And to wind up in a London showroom. Outrageous.”
    â€œYes, well, we have tried our very best not to soil it over much,” Trevor replied, winking at Jeffrey.
    â€œIt could have been bought by just anyone,” the gentleman went on. “Lost to the German people