Free The Baron Goes East by John Creasey Page B

head forward again and beamed.
    â€œOld India good for English people, Americans, everyone. New India, very bad. Not safe. Safe with Patandi for one week only. I regret, after that I must sell my books. The fools I leave to sell them for me will charge half the price or run away with all the money. You see the great sacrifice I make for you?”
    He beamed like a happy child.
    â€œYes, I see,” said Mannering. “Let me think about it, Patandi. Where can I find you?”
    Patandi was proud.
    â€œMy shops,” he announced. “Everywhere. Good books, ancient and modern. I have seven and there are also Greek. In Greek. Many Latin. All Indian cultures, also. I do everything, but you have only one week in India, so I give it all up.”
    He turned a bow into a salaam and brought the brief-case between his knees. Straightening up, he looked at it as if surprised at seeing it, and then his eyes widened and glowed and he held the case out to Mannering, as a magician might present a rabbit.
    â€œFamous Mr. Mannering, this is yours .”
    Mannering said: “That’s right.”
    â€œWhere did you get it?” Lorna demanded sharply.
    â€œLady, ask no questions, hear no lies,” said Patandi, and roared with laughter. “I tell you. These boys, they will beg, rob, steal, do anything, yes. They climb through to the airfield, they attack last night, isn’t that so? They take the case to the old man who employs them. A bad old man, yes. He sends it with a boy to me. You ask, why to me? I tell you. I sell many things. Bags, cases – very fine lady’s crocodile, tiger-skin handbags, lady, best in India; you must come and see for yourself, please. New, second-hand. I pay twenty rupees for this bag, the boy goes, I open it—and what do I find? Your name, Mr. Mannering. So, I am an honest man. Twenty rupees – what is it? The price of honour? Too cheap. I give it back to you.”
    He held the case on the palms of his hands and thrust it in front of Mannering. His smile was gentle now, as if appealing for praise. Mannering, who had looked at him throughout the last ten minutes with dull eyes and without moving, took it and smiled thinly.
    â€œVery kind of you. Thanks.”
    â€œSir, it is my duty,” said Patandi. “An honest man returns to its rightful owner any article which strays into his possession. Not all poor men are dishonest. When will you come to see me?”
    â€œThis afternoon.”
    â€œCome to any of my shops, say you wish to see me, they will send for me at once. Five minutes, ten minutes, and I will be with you. Famous English gentleman, au revoir .”He turned massively, then darted a glance at Lorna. “And famous lady.”
    He reached the door.
    It opened, and Amu appeared, looking at Patandi with sneering contempt. Patandi stalked out. Amu closed the door silently. Mannering sat without moving. Lorna lit a cigarette, stood up and began to walk restlessly about the room. She started to speak, looked at him and stopped.
    He picked up the brief-case, opened it deliberately, and took out the contents. From one section, three novels; from another, two slim volumes of Browning and Keats; from the third, a package which looked like a book. He opened this. There were no leaves, but a small, sealed brown paper packet was inside. The seal had been neatly broken, as neatly re-joined. Lorna moved towards him and rested a hand on his shoulder as she looked down. He unwrapped the package and came to a thick cardboard box, opened this to the cotton wool, pulled the cotton wool aside, and found a blue diamond.
    It was the replica that Gall had made for him.
    The surface was scratched and he peered at it closely, then took a small magnifying lens out of his pocket and peered through it. He gave a quick, gusty laugh.
    â€œWhat is it?” Lorna demanded.
    â€œThey’re good. They’re very good.” He handed her the glass and the paste