Pleasure Thieves

"Carol, how nice, my dear." He took her by the elbow and escorted her to a low Chinese table. The tea service and sweets were immaculately displayed. "You're in time for tea, and you must be chilled to the bone. Here, take your coat off, dear."

"Thank you, Boris." Her voice was cool. "Your place is wonderful.

It's a joy to be here." He moved to take her coat and gloves, but she gently brushed his hand away and threw the coat over the arm of the deep couch.

"For someone who comes so seldom and stays so briefly that's rather hard to believe." He looked at her inquisitively.

"Oh Boris," she laughed, "not with me too." She looked about the apartment. "This place makes your conquests too easy. I couldn't possibly succumb."

"My dear, I have a perfectly filthy hovel for girls with just that attitude. Let me take you there."

"I could never obliterate the memory of this elegance."

"Ahhh," he signed deeply and swept in the vista with his arm, "to what avail when the fairest sees through it."

"My weary Casanova," she consoled. He handed Carol a cup of tea, and sat quietly. She sipped delicately. "I suppose I should have shopped about a bit before closing with you. But then I liked your offer. It's immediate and…"

"My dear," Boris exclaimed with a restraining smile, "you needn't convince me. Where are they?"

Carol set her cup down and picked up the hatbox. She buried her hand in it, and lifted out the black wallet. As she opened the wallet, Boris got swiftly to his feet and closed a sliding wall door. He walked back and bent over her as she unfolded the Meltzer necklace.

"Here it is." She let the diamonds spill over her palm.

"Ahh," he said softly, and held his hand out. Reluctantly she relinquished the diamonds. Boris was no longer a Don Juan. He was a jeweler, a man with a glass eyepiece. He examined the string slowly, scrupulously. The diamonds sparkled like prisms even against his pale fingers. He removed the eyepiece and sat down, still holding the necklace.

"They're fabulous. Absolutely perfect." He looked at them with open pleasure. "There are even five more than I need." He smiled approvingly. "I always expect and get the finest from you, Carol. I won't even bargain. The offer stands as made. But tell me, whose was it, or shouldn't I ask?"

He didn't expect an answer, but revolved the string of diamonds before his eyes. "Perfect, perfect." With a sigh he put the diamonds on the Chinese table and opened a large safe over the fireplace.

He turned to her. "Very traditional, you know. Jewel thieves never dream of looking for a safe over a mantle. They think they've cracked all of those in existence. Of course," he was pulling a suitcase out of the wall safe, "they do get refilled."

He returned to Carol. The open suitcase revealed stacks of bound paper money. "It's all there as agreed, dear." Carol quickly transferred the bills into the hatbox.

"I'm glad you're so pleased, Boris. If prices hold, we should be able to keep happy right through Spring."

"I'm sure of it, my dear," he agreed rising. He took a small chamois bag from his pocket and dropped the necklace into it. Looking at Carol, he pulled the cord tight. Then he helped her into her coat. She picked up her gloves and hat and the light-heavy box.

"Forgive me for being in a rush, Carol," he said as they walked toward the door, his hand at her elbow. "There's a bit of rearranging to do." He lightly tapped the pocket of his coat.

She offered him her hand. "I understand completely."

***

Carol walked unannounced into Phillip's study and found the two men sitting quietly before the fire, their papers and things about them.

The room was heavy with smoke and an atmosphere of intense work.

Phillip rushed up to mix her a drink. "How did it go, darling?"

"Great." She walked to Harry and handed him a key. "It's in a safety deposit box at the National City Bank, 43rd and Madison, under the name of Richard Cutter. It's the full count in twenties, fifties, and hundreds."

Phillip handed her the drink, and Harry, dropping the key lightly into his pocket, studied Carol as she nuzzled tiredly against Phillip. She looked like a puppy that has retrieved the rubber ball and wants to be petted.

"Let's have a little celebration," Phillip suggested.

"The treat's on Harry," Carol announced.

"What's on Harry?"

"The treat."

Harry ignored Phillip. "Anything you want Carol, you can put anything you want on me." And the three of them were silent.

CHAPTER V

A huge standing clock in the main hall chimed eleven times. The house was dark except for the subtly lit wall sconces along the staircase. The Albright butler-chauffeur walked noiselessly down the steps. He took a raincoat from the vestibule closet, opened the front door of the house, and marched erectly down the steps to the driveway.