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was that they were among Timothy Holland’s things when he arrived back in England and that another brother, Jona Holland, wrote that he’d been very excited by the find.’
    He nodded. ‘Well he might be if he knew anything about stamps.’ He was silent for a while, sitting there staring at the black impression of the proof. ‘But no sheets,’ he muttered. ‘I wonder …’ He sat back, toying with his glass. ‘If I’m right, then there must have been sheets of those stamps. I wonder where they are. Somebody must have them.’ He shrugged, closing the album slowly and with a certain reluctance. ‘I think I’d better take this collection along to somebody who knows more about ship stamps than I do. Josh Keegan is the best bet. And if he doesn’t know, he’ll tell me who to go to. I’ve a feeling … I’m not sure, mind you, but I think a stamp rather like that die proof came up for sale at a Robson Lowe auction some years back. Josh may have been at the sale.’ He downed the rest of hisdrink and got to his feet. ‘I’ve got to go now. Mind if I take the albums with me?’
    I hesitated, unwilling to let them go now that I knew he was interested. ‘Yes, of course,’ I said. Obviously he couldn’t give me a valuation on the spot.
    â€˜Good.’ He had noticed my hesitation and smiled. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of them.’ He picked up the albums, holding them out to me. ‘Pop them in a polythene bag, will you? Don’t want to get them wet rowing ashore.’
    He had a supper date with friends near Maldon and when he had seated himself carefully in his dinghy he looked up at me, his bright eyes twinkling. ‘I could have valued the collection off the cuff, made you an offer, and, given the girl’s circumstances, she’d probably have accepted. Instead, I’m seeking expert opinion for you. Greater love hath no man.’ He picked up the oars, and as I tossed the painter into the bows, he began to drift away on the tide. ‘I’ll tell Josh to ring you direct if he’s anything of interest to report. Otherwise, I’ll come back to you myself and make an offer for the lot.’
    â€˜You really want it then?’
    He nodded, smiling at me like an amiable frog. ‘Yes, I do. First time I’ve ever had a collection in my hands that was made for the purpose of choosing a design. Three or four days and I’ll hope to be back to you with that offer.’
    â€˜Well, see that it’s a fair one,’ I said.
    He laughed, back-paddling against the tide, theplastic dinghy so low in the water it looked on the verge of sinking. ‘Suspicious bastard you are. Whatever the business ethics in your world, Roy, stamps are still a gentlemanly occupation.’ And with that he swung the little boat round and headed for the nearest landing pier.
    As soon as I was home, I got out the catalogue and looked up Trinidad. There it was, the first Crown Colony stamp listed, a 5c. blue. A note underneath read:
The ‘Lady McLeod’ stamps were issued in April, 1847, by David Bryce, owner of the s.s.
Lady McLeod,
and sold at five cents each for the prepayment of the carriage of letters by his vessel between Port of Spain and San Fernando. Used examples are pen-cancelled or have a corner skimmed off.
The value of it unused was given as £6,000, used £2,000.
    I sat there staring at it for a long time. Even though the Holland stamp was used, or rather pen-cancelled, and the condition of it not that good, it put the collection in a different class, quite outside my range. To buy it, I’d have to sell most of my carefully acquired GB stamps. Either that or the boat.
    I put it out of my mind after that, which wasn’t difficult since I was loaded with all Packer’s work. And on top of that Rowlinson sent me the figures for Munnobungle, asking me for my comments