"Three things, actually."

"And they will not be gifts."

"Not quite."

I took a small velvet bag from the attaché case, handed it to him. He weighed it in his hand, then spilled its contents into his palm. A pair of teardrop earrings, emeralds, quite simple and elegant. Abel drew a jeweler's loupe from his breast pocket and fixed it in his eye. While he was squinting through it at the stones, Carolyn crossed to the sideboard where the liquor and pastries were laid out. She freshened her drink. She was back in her chair and her glass was a third empty by the time Abel was through examining the emerald earrings.

"Good color," he said. "Slight flaws. Not garbage, Bernard, but nothing extraordinary, either. Did you have a figure in mind?"

"I never have a figure in mind."

"You should keep these. Carolyn should wear them. Model them for us, liebchen."

"I don't have pierced ears."

"You should. Every woman should have pierced lobes, and emerald teardrops to wear in them. Bernard, I wouldn't care to pay more than a thousand for these. I think that's high. I'm basing that figure on a retail estimate of five thousand, and the true price might be closer to four. I will pay a thousand, Bernard. No more than that."

"Then a thousand is the price."

"Done," he said, and returned the earrings to their velvet bag and placed the bag on top of Spinoza's Ethics. "You have something else?"

I nodded and took a second velvet bag from the attaché case. It was blue-the one with the earrings had been the color of the doorman's uniform-and it was larger, and equipped with a drawstring. Abel undrew the string and took out a woman's wristwatch with a rectangular case, a round dial, and a gold mesh band. I don't know that he needed the loupe, but he fixed it in his eye all the same and took a close look.