agent under pretence of viewing the house, and he saw the picture there."

"Why didn't he take it with him?" Henson asked, with amused scorn. He was
master of himself again and had his nerves well under control.

"Well, that was hardly like Van Sneck. Our friend is nothing if not
diplomatic. But when he did manage to get into the house again the
picture was gone."

"Excellent!" Henson cried. "How dramatic! There is only one thing
required to make the story complete. The picture was taken away by
Hatherly Bell. If you don't bring that in as the _denouement_ I shall be
utterly disappointed."

"You needn't be," Littimer said, coolly. "That is exactly what did
happen."

Henson chuckled again, quite a parody of a chuckle this time. He could
detect the quiet suggestion of triumph in Littimer's voice.

"Did Van Sneck tell you all this?" he asked.

"Not the latter part of it," Littimer replied, "seeing that he was in the
hospital when it happened. But I know it is true because I saw Bell and
David Steel, the novelist, come away from the house, and Bell had the
picture under his arm. And that's why Van Sneck's agent couldn't find it
the second time he went. Check to you, my friend, at any rate. Bell will
go to my father with Rembrandt number two, and compare it with number
one. And then the fat will be in the fire."