"Coveted?" Sir James said. "Coveted, did you say? I would refer to it more as lusted. I'm well aware of your interest." He yawned, appearing bored and disinterested in Sir Edward's fixation on one of his most prized possessions.

"I'm curious," continued Sir Edward. "Was it really done by a student of Vermeer, or is it actually a Vermeer?"

"I'm not really certain, old man--not certain at all. I've never personally had it appraised," muttered Sir James. "But, my appraisal of your situation in this chess match," he drew Sir Edward's attention to the table, "is that you are in check!"

Sir James Townsend and Sir Edward Tabor had been close friends for twenty years, having met by chance. Both men had been widowed for years, both were considered by many of their acquaintances and friends as somewhat eccentric, and both had been knighted; Sir James for his service as an Ambassador and Sir Edward for his many distinguished years of service in Parliament. Both were men of means, having inherited large sums of money from affluent families. Their respective inheritances included thousands of acres of prime farmland and several country estates. Even though they lived in different townships, they became aware of the existence of each other through news accounts of their philanthropy. One day, quite by chance, they happened to meet formally at an antique art auction.

"Up for auction is a beautiful painting. This fine piece was recently attributed to a student of Vermeer," the auctioneer had been explaining to the small but select audience. "Who will open the bidding at twenty thousand pounds?" His eyes moved quickly from one bidder to the next. "I have a bid on the third row," he announced, noting the raised index finger of Sir James. "Now looking for thirty thousand." Several other subtle bidding gestures popped up from the small crowd.

A raised eyebrow on the last row raised the bid to thirty thousand. "I have thirty thousand, do I have forty?" Without a moment's hesitation, the index finger of Sir James brought the bid to forty. The auctioneer repeated the bid of forty thousand and then asked for a bid of fifty. "I'm looking for fifty," exhorted the auctioneer, hesitating, and then adding, "I realize that this is not a Vermeer. If it were genuine, the price would easily be near two million pounds. But nonetheless, it's still a beautiful work of art and reputed to have been completed under the watchful eye of the Master himself. This piece is definitely worth fifty thousand pounds."

No additional fingers or eyebrows were raised so the auctioneer concluded. "Going once, twice, fair warning-- sold for forty thousand pounds."

"A beautiful purchase, indeed," Sir Edward said. .

"Why thank you, sir. I couldn't agree more. It is a magnificent work of art and at a very reasonable price." Sir James then reached over to shake hands and make the acquaintance of Edward. They sat through several subsequent offerings that failed to pique either's interest.

"Well, I believe I'll call it a day," Sir James said, rising from his seat. "It's been a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine," Sir Edward assured him. "Please allow me to introduce you to a purveyor of fine spirits before you call it a day," he offered.

"The only thing I enjoy more than fine art is fine spirits. Let's be off."

The pair left the auction house and headed for a well-known pub several blocks from the art gallery. The two old gentlemen discovered they shared a passion for dark ale, fine art, antiques and chess. Several hours later, after a goodly number of downed pints, they departed the pub, somewhat unsteady on their feet, very tipsy, and now the best of friends. As he stepped past his chauffer and into his Bentley, Sir James invited Edward to join him at his estate the following week. That first visit was the start of a long friendship.

It wasn't long before the two fell into a routine of sorts. One summer Sir Edward stayed with Sir James; the following summer found Sir James staying with Sir Edward.

Life was just grand for the pair. The two gentlemen lived a very privileged lifestyle--one of leisure, so much leisure that sometimes it bordered on boredom. There were auctions, antique shows and chess, but even a full schedule of these left plenty of idle time on their hands.

Filling this idle time became a challenge and so practical jokes and pranks began to occur. As their friendship grew, their superb senses of humor drove the jokes to become the order of the day -- with each of the old gentlemen attempting to out do the other. One-upmanship became the goal, especially if it somehow embarrassed, infuriated or cost the other party a goodly sum of money. There were few rules, limits, or boundaries as to how far each would go in attempting to best the other. Both men agreed, however, that at the end of each day they would sit down, discuss the prank, apologize to the other, sip a glass of good cognac and end the evening as friends, over a game of chess.

"I can hardly wait for Monday to come," Sir Edward said to himself one night, recalling the previous Wednesday and the trick Sir James had played on him.

Sir James had invited a number of elite friends to dine with him at his estate. A grand foxhunt was planned and everyone arrived in their finest riding attire, including Sir Edward. He had purchased a very exquisite outfit just for the occasion. The jodhpurs, oriental silk vest, tweed double-breasted jacket, new boots and fine brown derby were as expensive as they were handsome.

Not the most skilled equestrian, Sir Edward requested one of Sir James' gentler mounts. In fact, he hadn't been on a horse for nearly fifty years. Sir Edward unfortunately missed the devilish twinkle in Sir James' eye when James assured him that he had selected just the right horse for his best friend.

There was something else Edward didn't know. Sir James had placed a number of cockleburs strategically under the edge of Sir Edward's saddle. When Sir Edward mounted, his weight on the saddle pressed the burs into the flesh of the horse. The plan worked exceedingly well. Sir Edward's horse reared straight up on his hind hooves which, in turn, resulted in Sir Edward performing a spectacular reverse somersault through the air and landing in the middle of a mud puddle on his hind quarters. The onlookers applauded with delight at the spectacle.

Once he'd composed himself, Sir Edward, still flat on his back, wiped the mud from his face with his handkerchief and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Sir James rocking back and forth in his saddle, laughing hysterically, in peril of falling off his own horse.

That evening after a late supper and after all of the guests had departed, Sir Edward and Sir James sat down to their usual game of chess. With the evening winding down, Sir James felt the need to apologize. "I say, old boy," he said, with a giggle and a gleam in his eye. "You made quite a splash at the foxhunt today!"

"I must admit you pulled off a dandy today," Sir Edward conceded. "It was a real snapper."

"You know, of course that it was all in jest, don't you?"

"Of course, old man! No harm done. No harm done at all."

"Not even to your pride?" Sir James guffawed so loudly, his steward feared for his lordship's heart.

For the next several hours, Sir James trounced Edward at the game before them. Edward only smiled. His thoughts were far from the moves on the chessboard. His thoughts were directed toward revenge. Sir Edward's eyes, by chance, fell upon the painting that James had hanging on his wall-- a painting they both loved. The painting was something Sir Edward had always wanted. He thought of having it in his own home even if it had only been painted by a student of Vermeer--or was it? With a twinkle in his eye, Sir Edward whispered, "You know, James, I plan to get you back for your prank."

"But of course old chap. I wouldn't expect anything less. But you have to admit that it was a classic, wouldn't you say?"

"It was epic!" Sir Edward conceded. "I can't argue with that. It was truly a masterpiece."

Later that evening, alone in the guest quarters, Sir Edward came up with a scheme that would out-do the one his friend perpetrated on him at the foxhunt. Sir Edward knew he would have to be clever and subtle since James would be expecting something in retaliation. A smile played over his face. He turned out the lights and was soon asleep.

The following morning, over breakfast, Sir Edward casually asked his old friend for a favor. "James, you've had the pleasure of enjoying that beautiful painting for these many years, now I would like to enjoy it for a time."

"Speak plainly Edward."

"Tell you what I'll do. I am prepared to offer you 120,000 pounds for it. That's three times the amount you paid for it at the auction twenty years ago."

"Still love the painting, do you?"

"You know that I do. Sell it to me, I beg you."

"Surely, you jest."

"I'm quite serious. And further, I believe I am being quite generous. My offer would amount to an annual appreciation of fifteen percent."

"I don't think I could part with it."

"Don't think you could part with it? What about your prank at the foxhunt, man? Shouldn't I be afforded some consolation for the loss of my pride?"

"Well I suppose so, yes--but the painting? I don't know." Sir James shook his head but soon began to laugh as he recalled the image of his best friend doing a back flip off his horse.

"What's so blasted funny?"

"Well, I just remembered the look on your face as you sat in that puddle!"

"I believe I've been a rather good sport. How about you consider being one as well?"

Sir James had to admit that his friend had been a good sport. Sir Edward persisted.

"In any case, if you allow me to buy it, it's not as if you'll never see it again. It will always be available in my den and I promise generous visitation rights."

Sir James hesitated.

"Come on, man," insisted Sir Edward. "Be a bloody sport."

Sir James was agonizing. He really hated to part with the painting.

"What do you say?" begged Sir Edward.

"Oh, all right," said Sir James, caving in. "I suppose it is a small price to pay for a bit of fun."

"Pay, say you? I'm paying you for the bloody painting and you had my backside in a mud puddle in full view of our associates and friends. I feel as if I'm being taken for a ride."

"Ha! Like the ride you got at the foxhunt!"

"You are correct," admitted Sir James. "You've been a dear friend all these years, and I will still be able to see it from time to time. I'm sure no one else would appreciate the painting as much as you would. Then for the rather modest sum of 120,000 pounds, it is. Done and done."

"Brilliant!" exclaimed Sir Edward as they shook hands on the deal.

"Of course, I'll need to have an appraiser look it over before I part with it. Besides, you'll need an appraisal to establish a value for insurance purposes."

"Anything you say, old man," agreed Sir Edward beaming. "Anything you say. I'll have a cashier's cheque made out for the entire amount. It will be delivered to you by bonded bank courier by noon tomorrow."

"Excellent. Meanwhile I will arrange for Mr. Frost from Botham's to be here. By the conclusion of luncheon, the painting and appraisal will be ready. Now, let's eat before the cook chastises us for dawdling," said Sir Edward, smiling.

The following morning, Mr. T.S. Frost arrived just as Sir Edward was taking his leave. They exchanged pleasantries, smiles and winks and then Sir Edward excused himself and left to run some "errands". His retribution plan was in motion.

To Be Continued