ears, he would enjoy his triumph, at first in secret, and
afterwards openly."

"But what was the picture returned to the Hermitage?"

"One of these same copies--that was the supreme sarcasm."

"The original, then--the 'Red Duchess'?"

"The fuel in the stove consisted of some strips of painted canvas,"
said Indiman, gravely. "I don't know, I can't be sure--they were
almost consumed when I shut the door."

"An imperfect copy," I hazarded.

"Some day we will take a trip to the Hermitage to make sure,"
answered Indiman. "'Where ignorance is bliss,' etc. What do you
think, Blake?" he continued, turning to our companion.

"It's all the same to me, sir," answered Blake, a little ruefully.
"It was a big thing, right enough, but somehow I seem to have
missed it all round. Well, good-night, sir, if you'll kindly set me
down at this corner."

Indiman and I enjoyed a small supper under Oscar's watchful eye.
The night was fine and we started to walk home. Have I said that
Indiman had proposed that I should move my traps over to his house
and take up my quarters there for an indefinite period? In exchange
for services rendered, as he put it, and somehow he made it
possible for me to accept the invitation. It had been twenty-four