‘Pinks are rare, Coo! If this was a pink sapphire, it’d be worf ’undreds.’

‘I don’t really want hundreds – because I want to get it back. I really need about four pounds, but a pound would be a help. I thought, the gold would be worth a pound. And I don’t want anybody in the house to know; so please don’t mention that I asked you.’

She sounded humble and she looked helpless. Some deeply buried, almost atrophied remnant of manhood in Washbrook rose to the surface.

‘Ask for a pound and you’ll end wiv a tanner, that’s my experience,’ he said. ‘Ask for a tenner and you may get five bob. Nearly a joke that is – tanner and tenner, see? It was plain that she did not. ‘A tanner is sixpence,’ he explained. ‘Tell you what, if you like I’ll do the deal for you. They’d do a lady like you. And I don’t want anybody in the house to know. If they knew I’d done a errand for you . . . Shall I try for a fiver?’

‘I don’t want it sold.’

‘I ’eard you the first time. I’ll be ’ere about the same time tomorrow morning wiv the dibs, if any.’

Next morning he ambled up to her and handed her a pawn ticket and five of the filthiest pound notes she had ever seen.

‘I was right. Pink sapphire it was. Din’t ’alf look at me suspicious, he din’t. Calmed down when I only asked for a fiver.’

She took one of the notes and held it out to him.

‘I’m so deeply grateful. You made it all so easy for me, Please have this.’

‘There’s no call for it,’ he said gruffly. ‘No, I know. Really, I only needed the four pounds – to tide me over – and I couldn’t have got out without drawing attention. Please, Mr Washbrook.’

‘All right,’ he said, and pocketed the note. ‘Any time you got a little errand . . . but on the sly, mind you.’