The Best Offer Page #3

It's gone to wrack and ruin ever

since Miss lbbetson's parents died.

Let's go up.

How long since the owners died?

By the look of it, you'd

think it was centuries ago,

but it's only been one year.

First Mrs. Ibbetson and then,

scarcely 45 days later,

poor Mr. Ibbetson.

You have a good look.

Take your time.

Just getting these

curtains open.

Too many windows in this room.

Okay.

How many brothers and sisters

does Miss lbbetson have?

None. She is an only child.

- Is she married?

- No.

- Has she ever been?

- No, no.

I don't think she

even has a boyfriend.

- Grandparents, aunts, uncles?

- No, none at all.

As far as I know, Miss

lbbetson is on her own.

So many rooms.

You know, I've never

managed to count them all.

Have there been other

valuations before me?

Absolutely none.

Yours is the first.

Miss lbbetson is extremely

fond of this house.

Maybe too fond.

She'd prefer to keep everything,

but what can you do?

The empire crumbles. A woman

on her own can't cope.

Is she thinking of putting the

house up for sale as well?

That, I don't know.

Maybe a part of it.

She won't get rid

of the whole place.

What kind of work does she do?

I couldn't say. I only

dealt with her parents.

- May I see the cellars?

- It's this way.

It's a long way down.

Go ahead.

I honestly don't get it.

In the time I've known you,

I've never seen you beaten.

I've watched you produce

all manner of gadgets

from most unremarkable ironwork.

Optical, arithmetical

devices, water clocks...

Even that hairdryer that probably dried

the locks of Jules Verne's wife.

But you've nothing to say about

this curious contraption?

I'm surprised that an art

connoisseur like yourself

can get so carried away by

a banal piece of ironwork.

It's not the object that

arouses my curiosity,

but it's contradiction.

- Contradiction?

- Look.

I found it in this position in

contact with damp flooring,

but the rust is all along the top

of the cogs, nowhere near the damp.

What does this mean?

The object hadn't been

there for very long.

It got rusted in some other place.

Or someone turned it upside down.

That's all, nothing more than a

useless exercise in deduction.

Hi. Did you manage it?

Did you ever doubt me?

This works perfectly now.

And I transcribed the

recording from the tape.

You're a genius. How

much do I owe you?

Oh, nothing.

Maybe you'll invite me out.

Count on it.

- Can I give you a kiss?

- Yes, you can!

That I am good at.

- Good evening.

- Good evening.

William-Adolphe Bouguereau.

The Birth Of Venus.

Authentic.

Umberto Veruda,

The Honest, 1890.

You've been the talk

of the town lately.

I hoped to see you on TV.

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