The Elizabethan Secret (Lang Reilly Series Book 9) Read Online Free PDF

the intermission.”
                  “Adding items not in the catalogue?” an elderly gentleman behind Gurt and Lang grumbled. “Highly irregular!”
                  And it was. Lang knew the list of items to be auctioned was made public via publishing the catalogue three to four months in advance of the auction, allowing potential patrons to make such travel and financial plans as might be necessary.
                  The issue was forgotten as the auction began. The first few lots consisted of coarse sandy ware, brown or green with plain lead glaze. At the beginning of Elizabeth’s reign, fine china didn’t exist in England. That changed when the Portuguese established a trading base on the island of Macao. By the time of the queen’s death, finely decorated “China goods” were arriving. The name was reduced to simply “china,” a designation still in use today.
                  Surprisingly, the fragile china had survived better than the stocky oak, function-over-form furniture of the era. It would be more than a century before the more workable if less-durable maple and walnut plus the exotica of imported woods allowed the simple beauty of Sheraton, the strong, curving lines of Queen Anne and the whimsy of Chippendale. Only two hunt tables and a decidedly uncomfortable looking chair were knocked down before the linenfold paneled coffer was wheeled out.
                  The piece was perhaps four feet in height, sitting on four short, block legs. Lang’s previous inspection days earlier had concluded one of them had been clumsily repaired in the late sixteenth century (with pegs, not the more-expensive nails). The panels were carved in folds like small waves or linen as it is folded in a drawer. Age had turned the wood as dark as mahogany.
                  “I thought you were not fond of carved furniture,” Gurt whispered.
                  Not the busy carvings of hunt scenes and dead game so popular on the panels of chests of her native Germany, but he said, “Not quite the same.”
                  Commencement of the bidding relieved him of further response.
                  The auctioneer described the coffer, opening bidding at 4,000 pounds. Paddles flashed in hundred=pound increments but largely disappeared as interest lagged past 6,000. At 6,500, the coffer was knocked down to Lang.
                  He and Gurt sat through the rest of the first half of the auction. As the crowd milled about during the intermission, he stood, stretched and edged into the adjacent aisle. Gurt also stood, collecting her rain coat.
                  “I’m going to the business office, make arrangements to have my coffer shipped. I’d like to stay to take a look at those scientific instruments that may have belonged to John Dee.”
                  There was a question on her face.
                  “John Dee was quite a character. I’ll tell you about him.”
                  “We have reservations at Club Gascon at 21:00.”
                  Lang checked his watch. “Plenty of time. Just now coming up on 20:00. We’ll take a cab instead of the tube. Besides, it isn’t that far to West Smithfield.”
                  She was digging in her purse as he walked away. “I’ll call and see if we can get a later reservation.”
                  Lang made arrangements for Christie’s to draft his Barclay’s account for the 6,500 pounds plus shipping.
                  “Where might I view the John Dee items?” he asked the rosy cheeked young lady behind the desk.
                  “Number three gallery, right along there.” She pointed. “Last door before you reach the auction hall. And remember, Christie’s does not guarantee they really did belong to Mr. Dee.”
                  The