The Mark

Arthur Jones called himself an antiques dealer but in truth he was little better than a thief. His speciality was getting people to part with valuable items at far below their true worth. He rationalised his activities by saying that some folks deserved what they got and if it was not him then someone else would relieve them of their goods.

But even by Jones's low standards it had been a poor day. All he had to show for all his efforts was afew trinkets that would not cover his petrol costs. His one conselation was that he would soon be in the bar downing a few whiskies. He tuned in the car radio to a local station and was humming along to a Frank Sinatra song when his cellphone rang.

"Hello. Arthur Jones speaking."

"Mr Jones, I am sorry to bother you but I have a few things I would like to sell."

"What sort of things?" Jones enquired

"A few ornaments and a cup and saucer." Came the reply

"Ok. I will have a look at them for you. What is your name and adress?"

The caller supplied the details. Jones was pleased to note that the address was on his way to the pub so it would take little time to check things out. Ten minutes later he pulled up outside a small bungalow with a well tended garden. Trying to summon up some enthusiasm he strode up the short path and knocked on the front door. It was opened by a small, frail looking old lady with white hair and thick glasses.

"Mrs Halsall?" Jones said, smiling broadly, "you rang me about some items you had to sell."

The old lady peered at him myopically.

"Come in young man. She said, stepping aside.

Jones grinned. It had been many years since someone had called him young. His spirits dropped, however, when he surveyed the tiny lounge he entered. The furnishings were well worn and everything had an air of poverty.Turning to Mrs Halsall he employed his favourite tactic to gain time to study his surroundings more closely.

"Any chance of a cup of tea, dear? I've been on the road all day and I could murder a cuppa."

His host nodded her head. "do you take sugar? She asked.

"None for me. My friends say I am sweet enough. " Jones laughed at his own joke.

As soon as he had the room to himself Jones began to take an inventory of what he saw. As he thought there appeared to be little of value. The mirror over the mantlepiece was about the best thing and even that had a frame that badly needed replacement. Tarted up he could probably get £50 for it on a good day. Striding over to it he was adjusting his tie when he noticed the reflection of a small landscape painting he had missed seeing previously.

At first he doubted what he was looking at.On closer inspection he felt adrenaline course through his veins. There could be little doubt that it was a work of art of the highest standard. The brush strokes were exquisite and the composition superb. It had been executed by someone at the peak of their abilities and, although unsigned, Jones had little doubt that it was by one of the best 19th century artists. If he could get it attributed to an individual painter it would be worth a considerable amount.

He just had time to take his seat on the settee when the old lady reentered the room. She poured him a cup of tea and offered him a few biscuits. Jones took the proffered refreshments trying hard to stop his hands from trembling. Mrs Halsall made smalltalk, complaining about how expensive things were and how little her pension seemed to buy these days. She would love a holiday in Bournemouth but she had not been there since her husband had passed away.Jones listened inattentively, all the time wishing the old dear would get to the point of him being there. Finally she heaved a sigh and put her cup and plate down on the tray.

"I am sorry for taking up so much of your time. I will show you the things I have to sell."

Crossing to a sideboard she opened a cupboard and pulled out a box. In it were various small items of bric a brac, nothing of any real worth. Jones reached into the box and picked up a cup which was Sevres by way of the Far East. He looked at it with an air of one entranced. He did the same with the rest of the pieces.He took the box over to the window, supposedly to get a better look. He repeated the same performance but this time feigned to notice the painting which hung by his side. Now he could inspect it more closely he felt even more confident that his initial impressions were correct.

"This is nice." He exclaimed, "I would love this for the dining room at home."

"I do not want to sell it." Mrs Halsall replied, "It has a great deal of sentimental value."

Jones's initial disappointment was replaced by a feeling of determination.He decided to proceed cautiously.

"What do you know about its provenance?" He asked, secretly fearful of the reply.

"It has been in the family since it was painted." Mrs Halsall answered.

Jones rubbed his chin. After what seemed an age he appeared to come back to his senses.

"I really want it and I am prepared to offer you a good price for it and the rest of what you have to sell. How does £200 sound?

Mrs Halsall shook her head

"I do not wish to sell it."

Jones tried to keep the panic out of his voice

"How about if I increased my offer to £300?"

Again Mrs Halsall refused

By now Jones was calculating how much money he had in ready cash and how far he could stretch his overdraft.

"The absolutely most I can give you is £500." He said after a long silence.

He saw the hesitation in the old lady's eyes and pressed home his advantage.

"Just think, with that money you could afford a few weeks in Bournemouth and have enough left to buy something nice to replace it."

"Very well, I could do with a break. My sid always loved the South Coast and I would enjoy going to all the old places."

Jones felt a surge of exultation and could not count out the cash fast enough. It would mean he would incur bank charges when he needed to top up his living expenses but it was well worth it. When he sold the painting he would be in clover and finally able to afford to deal in quality merchandise. He pictured himself in an antiques shop in The Cotswolds selling overpriced goods to ignorant tourists..

He took the art work gently from the wall and cradled it in his arms. Mrs Halsall followed him out to the car carrying the other things.

"It has been a pleasure to do business with you, Madam. Please call me again if you get anything else. " Jones said brreezily

As soon as she had waved goodbye and gone back into the house he threw the box on to the back seat and laid the painting in the passenger footwell. He drove off, humming humming the Sinatra song he had heard previously.

Once alone Mrs Halsall removed her glasses to reveal eyes of a dazzling blue. She walked through the house to a small shed that stood in the read yard. In it,resting on an easel was an almost identical painting to the one she had just sold. She ran a critical eye over it and added a few details. She had just finished when a tall, stocky man entered the shed.

"Did he buy it?" The newcomer asked

"Yes" Mrs Halsall said.

"How many is that you have sold"

"10. I think it is time to move on. The rent is due on this place anyhow."

"Don't worry. When he comes back me and David will deal with him."

"You always have been good to your old grandmother. I will see you right when we get someplace else."

She laughed out load.

"To think, my art teacher said I would never make a living as a painter!"