Cruikshank’s gaze was shrewd. “I may have happened upon a few rare objects in my time.”
“Come now,” Lindsay replied. “Don’t be modest. Your reputation as a man of both learning and resourcefulness is well known.”
Cruikshank’s expression didn’t alter, but his scent did, if only slightly, a tinge of something new threading through the paper-dust aroma. Not for the first time, Lindsay wished he had Francis’s ability to intuit what such subtle scent changes meant, but he was only able to detect the changes themselves, not what they signified.
“I thank ye for the kind words, Mr. Somerville,” Cruikshank said in his dry, wheezy voice, “But I regret that yer own reputation is rather less well known, at least to me. Other than Mr. Fenton, no one I know has heard of ye.”
Lindsay glared at him. “I may not have been collecting for so long as some of your other clients,” he said loftily, “But I can assure you that I have already acquired a number of highly desirable items. What’s more I have the means to acquire many more, which I daresay is more than many of your associates can say!”
Cruikshank’s eyes widened a little at this display of offended pride, and he said hastily, “Come now, Mr. Somerville. I intended no offence.”
Lindsay regarded him for a long moment, then gave a tight nod. “Very well.”
“Good, good,” Cruikshank replied. “Now, tell me. What item is it ye seek?”
Lindsay leaned back in his chair. Crossing his legs, he admired the elegant silver buckle on his right shoe and said, “I wish to acquire a set of papers. They belonged to a man called Thomas Naismith. I’ve heard a rumour you may know where they are.”
Cruikshank didn’t immediately respond, but sat there, watching Lindsay with his little, round monkey eyes, his expression quite unreadable. At last he said, “I already have the Naismith papers, but I suspect ye knew that.”
Lindsay was a little surprised, both by Cruikshank’s ready admission and his directness regarding his suspicions as to Lindsay’s state of knowledge. However, he only smiled and said, “I’d heard you might do. And that if you didn’t, you would in any case be the best man to ask how to find them.”
Cruikshank did not respond to that, but sat very still in his chair, watching Lindsay. At last, he said, “I acquired Thomas Naismith’s papers at the request of a particular client, Mr. Somerville. They are already spoken for.”
Lindsay let his smile deepen and become confiding. “If they are onlyspoken for, they have not yet been handed over. You still have them in your possession, yes?”
Cruikshank nodded,
“Then you may still decide to sell them to me.” Lindsay pointed out. He offered a complacent smile and said, “I am a very wealthy man, Mr. Cruikshank, and I do not like to lose out on something I have set my heart on. I am prepared to pay you very handsomely.”
“I already have an agreement with my client,” Cruikshank said, but Lindsay noticed that the fingers of his right hand were tapping out a betraying tattoo on the arm of his chair. He was considering the matter.
“Who is your client?” Lindsay asked.
Cruikshank shook his head. “I cannae tell ye that,” he said, with a smile that indicated Lindsay was being impudent and they both knew it.
Lindsay shrugged and said with deliberate arrogance, “Well, whoever he is, I very much doubt he can pay what I can.” He lifted his hand to toy with the quizzing glass that hung around his neck and had the satisfaction of seeing Cruikshank’s gaze going to the expensive rings that winked on his fingers.
At length, Cruikshank said slowly, “My client is a powerful man, Mr. Somerville. I wouldnae like tae cross him.”
Yet still his fingertips drummed on the armrest of his chair as he considered.
Lindsay canted his head to one side, letting his smile grow playful. “Let us not flog this to death. I make no bones about it, Mr. Cruikshank: I am serious about these papers. I’ll want to see them before I buy, of course, but why don’t you tell me what sum it would take to persuade you to part with them?”
Cruikshank’s gaze did not move from Lindsay’s face. He pressed his thin lips together so hard, he looked as though he had no mouth at all. Steepling his fingers under his chin, he said softly, “Ye wouldnae pay five hundred English guineas for them, I’ll wager.”
There was a dull gleam of avarice in his gaze.
It was a truly outrageous sum for the scribbles of some long-dead scandal sheet printer.
Lindsay leaned forward, resting his elbow on the desk. “I might,” he said. “Let me see them and I will tell you.”
Cruikshank visibly swallowed. Had Lindsay surprised him with his willingness to consider paying so exorbitant a price? It was very likely a great deal more than Cruikshank’s current client was prepared to pay. Yet still he hesitated. Did he fear the consequences of breaking the agreement he had reached?
“Oh come on, at least show me them,” Lindsay wheedled. “I may agree to your price, but you can’t expect me to do so sight unseen.”
“No,” Cruikshank said slowly. “I wouldnae expect that, but to be frank, I’m no’ sure I’m prepared to consider an offer from ye at all, Mr. Somerville. It’s something I need to think on.” He leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. “And there’s little point showing ye the papers if I decide not to sell them tae ye, is there?”
Lindsay did not like the direction the conversation was taking.
