were even hints at suicide. That was some four or five years ago,
and whatever the secret may be it has been kept faithfully.

"At least I had solved a portion of the problem--it was Clive
Richmond and no other who had painted my copy of the 'Red Duchess.'
How do I know? Well, with the expert it is a matter partly
technical but more largely intuitive. How do you recognize a
friend's face? How does the bank clerk detect the counterfeit bill?

"Now this second copy bore the same ear-marks as the one in my
possession--the edges of the canvas marred and jagged, the Fulton
Street label on the back. What was this mystery?

"Mystery--yes, and behind it the shadow of a crime, of a human
tragedy. Who was to lift the veil? There was but one man--Clive
Richmond--who could answer my question; and where was Clive
Richmond? A week later I found still a third copy of my 'Duchess'
over on Sixth Avenue. I had left my purse at home that morning, and
when I went back the next day to buy the picture it was gone--sold
to a stranger. Did I say that I had missed getting possession of
the second picture through the same sort of contretemps? I never
saw either of them again.

"I had written to a friend in Petersburg to make certain inquiries
for me, and his answer confirmed my suspicions. The 'Red Duchess'
was not hanging in its accustomed place at the Hermitage; it was in
process of renovation, according to a statement made by the
director of the gallery.

"That was enough for me. The portrait had been stolen and was