“And what is it that you do?” asked the sallow, angular man, barely propping his obvious wig.
Jenkins, tanned and confident, flashed a dazzling grin and settled into his well-rehearsed monologue.
“I sir, am a hunter. But not for exotic creatures and game, no. I seek trinkets, gems, artefacts and objects of esoterica. I re-discover the lost and arcane.”
The angular quarry looked back, up and along the hypotenuse. Jenkins, glancing back through the crosshairs knew he had his man.
“I have travelled to the loneliest, most forgotten lands of Earth,” continued the hunter. “I have hacked my way through the densest jungle, sending snakes scurrying in the wake of my coming light. Have you ever been to South America?”
The question glanced off an apex and span into the outer orbits, unanswered.
“Lima, last summer! I led a small expedition – I and some local fellows. We travelled East and soon were deep in uncharted forest. Soon, we left even the howler monkeys behind, to areas where the sun seldom pierced to nourish the rotting jungle floor. All beneath my feet was rotting and death and the next mouthful of air needed to be sliced off with the keen edge of a machete.”
“Go on,” said the geometric moon of Jenkins.
“Water! In times like that, a man must have water! But no sooner has one quenched his thirst, as deeply as he dares, then the elixir escapes through perspiration, as thick and sticky as breakfast marmalade, and one tumbles into desperate thirst once more!”
Jenkins purveyed the scene. A wider group was falling into his pull, hanging elliptically to his words. He looked up, and to his left. He hadassent to draw them in further.
“But we were driven on, deeper into the darkness. We travelled under the yoke of tales of lost cities rubies as big as your fist, emeralds as green as an Irish pasture, and the diamonds, oh the diamonds!”
“And this was last summer?” asked the angular man, rotating about his axis.
“It was.”
“And what did you find?”
“Ah, my good man! Well that,” added Jenkins, archly, would be telling!”
Drawn to an oscillating chord, the obviously-wigged gentleman smiled weakly and spoke.
“So, given the travel restrictions this summer, I would understand that you were unable to undertake your usual, adventurous expeditions?”
Jenkins nodded. “That sir, is sadly true?”
“The forcible quelling of the pioneering spirit must have been quite frustrating, was it not? How did you cope?”
Jenkins sipped and considered for a moment. “One found other locations and distractions.”
A slow nod was received and integrated before the dialogue resumed.
“And did such locations include the safe hidden in the study of Fourteen, Acacia Gardens, Mayfair?”
Jenkins looked up and to the left, meeting the tired eye of the judge who, from beneath an even more apparent wig, spoke with authority and honey-like gravitas.
“You may answer the question, Mr Jenkins. I think we should all like to hear your response.”