“That will save time,” said Arden. “We will wire him. You must need a rest.”
“Oh, a rest will be most delightful,” said the artist. “I must get in condition to finish—that.” He waved toward the covered canvas.
“I haven’t yet thanked you,” murmured Arden.
“It is I who must thank you, dear young lady,” and he murmured something in Russian, translating: “It is the subject, not the picture, to whom the artist is indebted.”
The chief showed a desire to be gone. Doubtless to learn if that telephone from Clayton had come into his garage.
“We must be going,” said Terry.
“But we shall see you again,” added Sim.
“Marshlands will be a place for a real vacation, now that there is no mystery to solve,” said Arden, laughing a little.
“I thank you.” Dimitri bowed very formally. “And, if you will be so good, include in your telegram to my brother the fact that I am going to sell the snuffbox and give Olga the share she thinks she ought to have. Poor girl! She must not suffer because of my love for a relic. I shall sell the box.”
“Oh,” murmured Arden. “That lovely box!”