heavy. But their orderly array had not been disturbed. A long curtain
of faded green material hung from the wall at one side, as though to
screen something from the sunlight and dust.

"What have we here?" said the coroner.

He stepped across the store and whisked the curtain aside. A large
gilt frame was disclosed; and from it hung the slashed remains of a
canvas.

"Hello!" exclaimed Osborne, with interest. "This begins to look like
one of the old affairs that they say Hume's been mixed up in.
Somebody's tried to cut that picture from the frame."

They examined it carefully. A keen knife had been run around the top
and both sides, close to the frame. The painting hung down, its gray
back displayed forlornly.

Stillman regarded it with great satisfaction.

"Here," said he, "we at least have a possible motive."

Ashton-Kirk took a twisted walking stick from a rack, and with the end
of it, raised the slashed canvas so that its subject could be seen. It
was a heroic equestrian figure of an officer of the American
Revolution. His sword was drawn; his face shone with the light of
battle.

Pendleton was just about to cry out "General Wayne," when the stick
fell from his friend's hand, the canvas dropping to its former