Roald Dahl - Man from the South

'What's the matter with you?' Claud asked.

'It's nothing. I'll be all right in a minute. Please - a glass of water. It's my heart.'

Bert fetched him the water, handed it to him, and stayed close beside him, staring down at him.

'I thought maybe you were looking at something,' Rummin said.

'No, no,' Mr Boggis said. 'Oh, no. It's just my heart. It happens every now and again but it goes away quite quickly. I'll be all right in a couple of minutes.'

He must have time to think, he told himself. More importantly, he must have time to calm down before he said another word. Go slowly, Boggis. And whatever you do, keep calm. These people may be uneducated, but they are not stupid. And if it is really true - no it can't be, it can't be true ...

He was holding one hand over his eyes in a gesture of pain and now, very carefully, he looked through two of his fingers.

The thing was still there. Yes - he had been right the first time! There wasn't the slightest doubt. It was really unbelievable!

What he saw was a piece of furniture that any expert would have given almost anything to have; it was a dealer's dream. Among the most important examples of eighteenth-century English furniture are the three famous pieces known as 'The Chippendale Commodes' and here was the fourth Chippendale Commode! And he had found it! He would be rich! He would also be famous! Each of the other three was known throughout the furniture world by a special name. This one would be called The Boggis Commode! Just imagine the faces of the dealers in London when they saw it tomorrow morning! There would be a picture of it in the newspapers, and it would say, 'The very fine Chippendale Commode which was recently discovered by Mr Cyril Boggis, a London dealer ...' What excitement he was going to cause!

This commode was a most impressive, handsome piece, made in the French style with four elegant legs that raised it about thirty centimetres from the ground. There were six drawers: two long ones in the middle and two shorter ones on each side. The front was beautifully decorated along the top and sides and bottom. The handles, although they were covered with white paint, appeared to be excellent. It was, of course, a rather 'heavy' piece of furniture, but it had been made with such elegant grace that the heaviness was not apparent. It was wonderfully beautiful.

'How are you feeling now?' Mr Boggis heard someone saying.

'Thank you. I'm much better already. It passes quickly. Ah yes. That's better. I'm all right now.'

A little unsteadily, he began to move around the room examining the furniture, one piece at a time, commenting on it briefly. He could see that there was nothing of value apart from commode.

'A nice table,' he said. 'But it's not old enough to be of much interest. Good comfortable chairs, but quite modern, yes, quite modern. Now this commode' - he walked past and touched it with his fingers - 'worth a few pounds, I'd say, but no more. A rather ugly copy, I'm afraid. Probably nineteenth century. Did you paint it white?'

'Yes,' Rummins said, 'Bert did it.'

'Very wise. It's less ugly in white.'

'That's a strong piece of furniture,' Rummins said. 'Well made, too.'

'Machine-made,' Mr Boggis answered quickly, examining the fine work. He began to walk away but then turned slowly back again. He placed one finger against his chin, laid his head over to one side and appeared deep in thought.

'You know what?' he said, looking at the commode. 'I've just remembered... I've been wanting a set of legs like those for a long time. I've got an unusual little table in my own home, one of those low ones people put in front of the sofa and last year, when I moved house, the foolish removal men damaged the legs in the most shocking way. I'm very fond of that table. I always keep my books on it. Now I was just thinking. The legs on this commode might be very suitable. Yes, indeed. They could easily be cut off and fixed on to my table.'

He looked around and saw the three men standing absolutely still, watching him with suspicion, three pairs of eyes, all different but all mistrusting.

Mr Boggis smiled and shook his head. 'But what am I saying? I'm talking as if I owned the piece myself. I do apologise.'

'What you mean to say is, you'd like to buy it,' Rummins said.

'Well ...' Mr Boggis glanced back at the commode. 'I'm not sure. I might ... but on second thoughts ... no ... I think it might be a bit too much trouble. It's not worth it. I'd better leave it.'

'How much were you thinking of offering?' Rummins asked.

'Not much, I'm afraid. You see, this is not a genuine antique. It's just a copy.'

'I'm not so sure about that,' Rummins said. 'It's been in here over twenty years. It was old then. You can't tell me that thing's new.'

'It's not exactly new, but it's certainly not more than about sixty years old.'

'It's more than that,' Rummins said. 'Bert, where's that bit of paper you once found at the back of one of those drawers? That old bill.'

Mr Boggis opened his mouth, and then quickly shut it again without making a sound. He was beginning to shake with excitement.

When Bert went forward to the commode and pulled out one of the big middle drawers, Mr Boggis noticed the beautiful way in which the drawer slid open. He saw Bert's hand go inside the drawer among a lot of wires and strings. 'You mean this?' Bert lifted out a piece of folded, yellow paper.

'You can't tell me this writing isn't old,' Rummins said, holding the paper out to Mr Boggis, whose arm was shaking as he took it. It said: Edward Montagu to Thomas Chippendale. A large commode of extremely fine wood, two very neat long drawers in the middle part and two more on each side with handles and decoration, all finished to the highest standard............... 87

Mr Boggis was fighting to hide the excitement that was making him feel light-headed. Oh God, it was wonderful! With the original bill, the value had climbed even higher. What would it be now? Twelve thousand pounds? Fourteen? Maybe fifteen or twenty? Who knows?

He threw the paper on the table. 'It's exactly what I told you. A copy. This is simply the bill that the seller - the man who made it and pretended it was an antique - gave to his client. I've seen lots of them.'

'Listen, Reverend,' Rummins said, pointing at him with a thick dirty finger, 'I'm not saying you don't know much about this furniture business, but how can you be so sure it's false when you haven't seen what it looks like under all that paint?'

'Come here,' Mr Boggis said. 'Come over here and I'll show you. Has anyone got a knife?'

Cland gave him a pocket knife and Mr Boggis took it and opened the smallest blade. He scratched off, with extreme care, a small area of white paint from the top of the commode, revealing the old hard wood underneath. He stepped back and said, 'Now, take a look at that!'

It was beautiful - a warm patch of old wood, rich and dark with the true colour of its two hundred years.

'What's wrong with it?' Rummins asked.

'It's been made to look old! Anyone can see that!'

'How can you see that? You tell us.'

'Well, it's difficult to explain. It's a matter of experience. My experience tells me that without the slightest doubt this wood isn't really old.'

The three men moved a little closer to look at the wood. There was an atmosphere of interest now. They were always interested in hearing about new tricks.

'Look closely at the wood. You see that orange colour among the dark red-brown? That shows that it's been made to look older.'

They leaned forward, their noses close to the wood, first Rummins, then Claud, then Bert. The three men continued to stare at the little patch of dark wood.

'Feel it!' Mr Boggis ordered. 'Put your fingers on it! How does it feel, warm or cold?'