Free A Family Affair by Michael Innes Page B

authentic picture came to you here, you were proposing to act merely as an agent. You bought the copy – and no doubt after the original had been returned to Praxiteles. And now we come to the final act in your disreputable comedy, Braunkopf. You got the original out of Praxiteles, and here it is. Are you prepared to tell me just what persuasion you used? Not, I imagine, another cheque for £12,000.’
    ‘No, my goot Sir John, not that.’ Braunkopf produced this in a judicial tone, as if here had been one of the courses of action which he had envisaged, but which he had turned down for another equally reasonable. ‘Not exackly that.’
    ‘Not that at all, I rather suspect.’
    ‘Sir John, I was entirely fred.’
    ‘You were entirely what?’
    ‘I was entirely fred and open with Mr Praxiteles. I spilled him the whole peas.’ Braunkopf made a virtuous gesture. ‘Nothink was concealed from him, account high ethical standing the Da Vinci Gallery.’
    ‘In particular, I think, you didn’t conceal from him that you had placed the matter of the fraudulent sale of the copy to you in the hands of the police?’
    ‘Correk.’
    ‘And that you would now have to tell the police of Praxiteles’ ownership of the original?’
    ‘Natchly, Sir John. A citizen must give the police all assistings–’
    ‘Quite so. But you didn’t fail to point out to this reputable ship-owner that the result would be a great deal of embarrassing publicity?’
    ‘It was not the necessities, Sir John. Mr Praxiteles is most intellectuous smart person.’
    ‘I don’t doubt it. And you proposed a deal to him. He was to let you have the original, and you would let him have the copy?’
    ‘Correk. Praxiteles is not a true lover, Sir John, of the voonderble–’
    ‘He just liked Nanna and Pippa, and was prepared to put up with the copy, and let you blackmail him–’
    ‘My goot Sir John!’
    ‘And let you blackmail him out of a good many thousands of pounds’ worth of property, for the sake of preventing this ridiculous and unsavoury business from being made public. You were on pretty strong ground with him, I can see. But at least you’ve lost a customer.’ Appleby paused briefly, and then pointed to Giulio’s picture. ‘Why is it still here? Why haven’t you sold it by this time to some other Mr Praxiteles?’
    ‘It was the destitution that was important, no? Now I have the destitution, and there is no need to be precipitatious. The market for regrettables is very delicate one, Sir John – puttikler for high-class ethical concern. This prestigious chef-d’oeuvre Giulio Romano problesome shipped to United States of America.’
    ‘I see. Nanna and Pippa are waiting to be rolled up and sent across the Atlantic inside the exhaust pipe of a car?’ Appleby looked again at the painting. ‘Or perhaps you’ll get some poor devil of an art student to overpaint it with an English rural scene – in stuff that will come away again under a sponge?’
    ‘Not a rural scene, my goot Sir John.’ Braunkopf was suddenly indulgent before this inexpertness. ‘It is necessitous to follow the main lines of the existential composition, yes?’ He paused meditatively. ‘Perhaps a “Christ in the House of Mary and Martha”, no?’
    ‘I don’t think I need trouble you further at the moment. Except with a small piece of advice.’
    ‘Yes, my goot Sir John?’ Braunkopf – an intelligent man, who knew when he was in a spot – spoke with a resigned meekness.
    ‘No Mary and Martha at the moment. And no anything else. Put this thing back in your strongroom and leave it there. I can make no promises. But the extent to which my heart bleeds for Mr Praxiteles is a very moderate one. Not, you know, that it bleeds any more for you. And now, good afternoon to you. And thank you for the champagne.’
    ‘It is always the privileges, Sir John.’ Mr Braunkopf was all esteem, and indeed affection. ‘You will make my complimentings to my goot freund and