Adrien bent nearer to the picture under examination; then he said quietly:
"Where two such lights cannot discover the truth, who may? I agree with you, Alford, and so I do with you, Colman. Both your arguments are so convincing that if Rubens had painted it, and were present, to hear you, Colman, he'd be persuaded he hadn't; and if he had not painted it, you, Alford, could almost convince him that he had."
There was a general smile at the artists' expense; and Adrien continued:
"Rubens' touch"--examining the face--"but--what is this?" He pointed to a small weapon thrust into the girdle of the figure.
"That is a dagger," said Alford. "Here, where are the glasses?"
"Thanks," said Adrien, "but I don't require them. It is a dagger, and a Florentine one at that. Ah! Lady Merivale, I'm afraid your picture is more a specimen of what a modern impostor can rise to than that of an old master. That dagger is of comparatively modern fashion, certainly not earlier than the eighteenth century, while Rubens died in 1640."
The two artists stared, as well they might, but were neither sufficiently acquainted with Leroy to express their surprise at his knowledge, nor had knowledge enough themselves to challenge his dates.
It was Lord Standon who spoke first.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "Adrien going in for history! Who would have thought it? My dear fellow, why not give a lecture?"
"On the vanity of human hopes and the folly of friendship?" inquired Adrien, so coldly as to startle both the company and Lord Standon himself, who not being in Lady Constance's confidence, was naturally at a loss for the reason of this sudden anger on the part of Leroy. He drew back in surprise, but any further reference to the matter was stopped by the entry of Jasper Vermont. As a matter of fact, he had arrived just in time to overhear Adrien's last words.