"There!" he said, half resentfully. The chief looked carefully at
the picture and turned to Indiman.

"Do you desire to make any explanation, Mr. Indiman, as to how this
picture happens to be in your possession?"

"Certainly," was the prompt reply. "I bought it for a small sum a
month ago on the lower Bowery. The dealer's name was Gregory, I
think."

Young Mr. Blake sniffed incredulously. A messenger handed a couple
of telegrams to the chief. He read them with knitted brows and then
touched a call-bell.

"Send in Officer Stone," he ordered.

Mr. Stone immediately made his appearance. In his hand he carried a
flat, square parcel which, in obedience to a further order, he
proceeded to unwrap. I uttered an involuntary cry, for it was
nothing less than a replica of the famous portrait of the "Red
Duchess." A replica, indeed!--it would take an expert to decide
which of the two was the copy; they were absolutely alike, even to
the detail of the rough edges, the marks of the blunted knife.

"This picture was discovered in an art dealer's window on Fourth
Avenue near Twenty-ninth Street," explained the chief of the
detective bureau. "And now kindly listen to these despatches. The
first from the chief of police of New Orleans: