"But, I say—do you think it's a good likeness? He's made him look a most sinister sort of fellow. After all, Plant thought it was so bad he wouldn't have it."
"The more fool he. Ever heard of the portrait of a certain statesman that was so revealing of his inner emptiness that he hurriedly bought it up and hid it to prevent people like you from getting hold of it?"
Crowder came back.
"I say," said Wimsey, "whom does that picture belong to? You? Or the heirs of the deceased, or what?"
"I suppose it's back on my hands," said the painter. "Plant—well, he more or less commissioned it, you see, but——"
"How more or less?"
"Well, he kept on hinting, don't you know, that he would like me to do him, and, as he was my boss, I thought I'd better. No price actually mentioned. When he saw it, he didn't like it, and told me to alter it."
"But you didn't."
"Oh—well, I put it aside and said I'd see what I could do with it. I thought he'd perhaps forget about it."
"I see. Then presumably it's yours to dispose of."