CHAPTER XXXII
HOW THE SCHEME WORKED OUT
Chris crossed the corridor like one who walks in a dream. She had notenough energy left to be astonished even. Her mind travelled quickly overthe events of the past hour, and she began to see the way clear. But howhad somebody or other managed to remove the picture? Chris examined thespot on the wall where the Rembrandt had been with the eye of adetective.
That part of the mystery was explained in a moment. A sharp cuttinginstrument, probably a pair of steel pliers with a lever attachment, hadbeen applied to the head of the four stays, and the flat heads had beenpinched off as clean as if they had been string. After that it was merelynecessary to remove the frame, and a child could have done the rest.
"How clever I am," Chris told herself, bitterly. "I'm like the astutepeople who put Chubb locks on Russia leather jewel-cases that anybodycould rip open with a sixpenny penknife. And in my conceit I deemed theRembrandt to be absolutely safe. Now what--what is the game?"
It was much easier to ask the question than to answer it. But there weresome facts sufficiently obvious to Chris. In the first place she knewthat Reginald Henson was at the bottom of the whole thing; she knew thathe had traded on the fact that she had taken a fancy to the terrace as anafter-dinner lounge; indeed, she had told him so earlier in the day. Hehad traded on the knowledge that he could prove an alibi if anysuspicions attached to him. The fact that he was in danger owing to aslip on the edge of the cliff was all nonsense. He had not been in anydanger at all; he had seen Chris there, and he had made all that paradewith an eye to the future. As a matter of course, he was down theresettling matters with his accomplice of the maimed thumb, who had chosenthe cliff way of getting into the castle as the swiftest and the surestfrom detection.
Yes, it was pretty obvious that the man with the thumb had stolen theprint, and that by this time he was far away with his possession. WhileChris was helping Henson the latter's accomplice had slipped into thecastle and effected the burglary. Chris flicked out the light in thealcove as a servant came along. It was not policy for any of thedomestics to be too wise. Chris forced a smile to her face as the maidcame along.
"Allen," she asked, "are there many owls about here?"
"Never a one as I know, miss," the maid responded confidently. "I've beenhere for eleven years, and I never heard of such a thing. Clifford, thehead keeper, couldn't sleep at nights if he thought as there was such athing on the estate. Have you heard one, miss?"
"I was evidently mistaken," Chris said. "Of course you would know best."
So the cry of the owl had been a signal of success. Chris sat in thegloom there resolved to see the comedy played through. The events of thenight were not over yet.
"I'd give something to know what has taken place in the dining-room,"Chris murmured.
She was going to know before long. The lights were being extinguished allover the house. Henson came up to bed heavily, as one who is utterly wornout. At the same time he looked perfectly satisfied with himself. Hemight have been a vigilant officer who had settled all his plans and wasgoing to seek a well-earned rest before the enemy came on to hisdestruction. In sooth Henson was utterly worn out. He had taxed hisstrength to the uttermost, but he was free to rest now.
Meanwhile, the conference in the dining-room proceeded. Lord Littimer hadreceived his guest with frigid politeness, to which Bell had respondedwith an equally cold courtesy. Littimer laid his cigar aside and lookedBell steadily in the face.
"I have granted your request against my better judgment," he said. "I amnot sanguine that the least possible good can come of it. But I havequite grown out of all my illusions; I have seen the impossible provedtoo often. Will you take anything?"
"I hope to do so presently," Bell said, pointedly; "but not yet. In thefirst instance I have to prove to you that I have not stolen yourRembrandt."
"Indeed? I should like to know how you propose to do that."
"I shall prove it at once. You were under the impression that youpossessed the only copy of the 'Crimson Blind' in existence. When youlost yours and a copy of the picture was found in my possession, you wereperfectly justified in believing that I was the thief."
"I did take that extreme view of the matter," Littimer said, drily.
"Under the circumstances I should have done the same thing. But you wereabsolutely wrong, because there were two copies of the picture. Yours wasstolen by an enemy of mine who had the most urgent reasons fordiscrediting me in your eyes, and the other was concealed amongst mybelongings. It was no loss to the thief, because subsequently the stolenone--my own one being restored to you--could have been exposed anddisposed of as a new find. Your print is in the house?"
"It hangs in the gallery at the present moment."
"Very good. Then, my lord, what do you say to this?"
Bell took the roll of paper from his pocket, and gravely flattened it outon the table before him, so that the full rays of the electric lightshould fall upon it. Littimer was a fine study of open-mouthed surprise.He could only stand there gaping, touching the stained paper with hisfingers and breathing heavily.
"Here is a facsimile of your treasure," Bell went on. "Here is the samething. You are a good judge on these matters, and I venture to say youwill call it genuine. There is nothing of forgery about the engraving."
"Good heavens, no," Littimer snapped. "Any fool could see that."
"Which you will admit is a very great point in my favour," Bellsaid, gravely.
"I begin to think that I have done you a great injustice," Littimeradmitted; "but, under the circumstances, I don't see how I could havedone anything else. Look at that picture. It is exactly the same as mine.There is exactly the same discolouration in the margin in exactly thesame place."
"Probably they lay flat on the top of one another for scores of years."
"Possibly. I can't see the slightest difference in the smallestparticular. Even now I cannot rid myself of the feeling that I am thevictim of some kind of plot or delusion. The house is quiet now and thereis nobody about. Before I believe the evidence of my senses--and I havehad cause to doubt them more than once--I should like to compare thisprint with mine. Will you follow me to the gallery, if you haven'tforgotten the way?"
Littimer took up the treasure from the table gingerly.
He was pleased and at the same time disappointed; pleased to find that hehad been mistaken all these years, sorry in the knowledge that hispicture was unique no longer. He said nothing until the alcove wasreached, and Chris drew back in the shadow to let the others pass.
"Now to settle the question for all time," Littimer said. "Will you be sogood as to turn on the electric light? You will find the switch in theangle of the wall on your right. And when we have settled the affair andI have apologized to you in due form, you shall command my services andmy purse to right the wrong. If it costs me L10,000 the man who has donethis thing shall suffer. Please to put up the light, Bell."
Chris listened breathlessly. She was not quite certain what she was aboutto see. She could hear Bell fumbling for the light, she heard the clickof the switch, and then she saw the brilliant belt of flame flooding thealcove. Littimer paused and glanced at Bell, the latter looked round thealcove as if seeking for something.
"I cannot see the picture here," he said. "If have made a mistake--"
Littimer stood looking at the speaker with eyes like blazing stars. Justfor a moment or two he was speechless with indignation.
"You charlatan," he said, hoarsely. "You barefaced trickster."
Bell started back. His mute question stung Littimer to the quick.
"You wanted to be cleared," the latter said. "You wanted to befool meagain. You come here in some infernally cunning fashion, you steal mypicture from the frame and have the matchless audacity to pass it off fora second one. Man alive, if it were earlier I would have you flogged fromthe house like the ungrateful dog that you are."
Chris checked down the cry that rose to her lips. She sa
w, as in a flashof lightning, the brilliancy and simplicity and cunning of Henson'slatest and most masterly scheme.