Secrets of an Art Dealer by Duveen James Henry

Author:Duveen, James Henry [Duveen, James Henry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Read Books
Published: 2013-04-15T16:00:00+00:00

As my uncle, Joel Duveen, finished the story in our hotel in Bettws-y-coed, he leaned forward and cut a cigar with care. “You see, old van Esso was right. The box had gone into Russia, and now this Kopp—this too-smart Swiss dealer—brings it back to us for sale. The more I think of it, the less I like it. Kopp is an incorrigible scamp; if only I’d sat down and written an open cheque for twelve or fifteen thousand pounds, I could have forced his hand and kept the snuff-box here. Now, goodness knows what will happen to it. Damn it, I’m a fool, Jack!”

Uncle Joel was right because, like van Esso after the carriage episode on the Hanover road, we never set eyes on that lovely box again. It seemed fated to enter the lives of our family and then to slip away again, like mercury through clutching fingers.

The sequel to the story took place in Paris where one night, years afterwards, when on my way to a restaurant to dine, I caught sight of a bloated figure with a slouching gait. Somehow it struck a chord in my memory: I halted under a lamp-post and was amazed to find it was Kopp, the one-time rich dealer and patron of half a hundred pretty women. His trousers showed frills at the bottom and a dirty muffler took the place of a collar. Seeing me, he drew himself up with a semblance of his old pride.

“Oh, hullo, Jack! Didn’t expect to see you here. I suppose—er—I suppose you couldn’t do me a bit of good, for the sake of old times? I know of some fine tapestries but can’t go after them in this rig.”

It was pitiable and yet ludicrous. The “old times,” when he had tried—and often succeeded—in cutting me and other dealers out with what he called “smart business” but which was much worse than swindling !

“Yes,” I replied, “of course I can, Kopp. Here”—pushing some notes into his hand—“go and rig yourself out and come round to my place in the Rue Royale to-morrow.”

He actually managed to do this business and the deal netted him a few hundred pounds’ commission. Later, I asked him out to dinner, because I was very curious.

“Kopp: tell me what happened after you left Uncle Joel and me at Bettws-y-coed that afternoon, with the snuff-box of Frederick the Great. What did your Russian Princess say to our offer of £ 10,000?”

Kopp looked away. He seemed genuinely affected and laid a hand on my arm.

“You’ve been damned good to me, Jack, and I don’t want you to think I ‘did’ your uncle. You shall hear the whole story. Actually, I only got as far as Paris after I left you in North Wales. I meant just to stay the night en route to St. Petersburg—because—well, to see a very particular friend of mine.”

He spoke haltingly at first, with long intervals I did not interrupt his train of thought.

“Ah, mon ami , there was a lovely girl! But she was a devil.

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