“Can’t see it makes much difference”—her companion’s reply floated back to him. They passed down the restaurant—out of sight!
Peter rose to his feet and crammed his hat on his head.
“I’m a silly ass,” he said to himself. “Letting my imagination run riot—magnifying trivial incidents—giving way to distorted ideas.”
He hailed his second taxi-cab that day, and settled down comfortably. “Best thing I can do,” he thought, “is to go and have that look at those antiquities I’m going to buy on Friday.”
Wherein he erred—for he never bought them after all.
CHAPTER II.
Schedule Numbers 37, 38 and 39
When Peter entered the Galleries there were comparatively few people present. A knot of interested art-enthusiasts had gathered in front of a superb “Reynolds” dated 1765. It was described as the “Portrait of a Lady.” She held a lute in her hand and wore a satin dress cut low and edged with pearls. Although Peter was no expert in these matters, it did not take him long to realize that he was gazing at a masterpiece. But he passed on. The Galleries held other attractions that interested him more. Schedule Numbers 37, 38 and 39 were easily to be found. The three objects that had brought him to Day, Forshaw and Palmers’ almost jostled each other on the left of the room as you entered. The screen stood on the floor, the Pearl Collar and Rosary lay on a small Sheraton Inlaid Mahogany side table right against it. Their only visible protection from covetous hands was a rail that barriered them from the public, about four feet high. But as Peter looked at the three things for which he had been commissioned by Mr. Laurence P. Stewart, he became acutely aware and very definitely conscious, that he in his turn was being watched. Two men of medium height were lounging near . . . their profession was obvious to him. He had come into contact with their kind too many times before in the course of his own business not to recognize them when he saw them. “Plain-clothes,” he told himself. He walked across to the barrier and took a close inspection of the objects in which he was interested. As he did so he fancied the two men edged a little more closely to him. But he realized, upon looking round, that with the exception of the men to whom reference has been made, he was the only person in that particular part of the room; hence their keener interest in his movements. “Hang it all,” he said to himself—“this shadowing business gets on my nerves—I’ll establish my ‘bona-fides.’ ”
He walked back to the entrance to the Galleries. A middle-aged man was superintending the transportation of what was evidently a valuable picture. He paused in his directions as Peter came up. “Anything I can do for you, sir?” Peter caught him by the arm.
“Yes. Look here! Here’s my card! I’m Daventry—of ‘Merryweather, Linnell and Daventry.’ I want to examine items Nos. 37, 38 and 39 in the published catalogue of your sale on Friday.”
The man scratched his chin—thoughtfully. Then looked again at the proffered card.