"Look at Mr. Fleet," whispered Miss Winthrop to Christine.
She looked, and her attention was riveted to him. Step by step, he had drawn nearer, and his eyes were eagerly glancing from one picture to the other as if following up a clew. Instinctively she felt that he would solve the question, and her little hands clenched, and her brow grew dark.
"Really," said Mr. Cornell, "I did not know that we had an artist in Chicago who could copy the work of one of the best European painters so that there need be a moment's hesitancy in detecting differences, but it seems I am mistaken. I am almost as puzzled as Mr. Schwartz."
"The frames are exactly alike," said Mr. French.
"There is a difference between the two pictures," said Mr. Cornell, slowly. "I can feel it rather than see it. They seem alike, line for line and feature for feature, in every part; and just where the difference lies and in what it consists I cannot tell for the life of me."
With the manner of one who had settled a difficult problem, Dennis gave a sigh of relief so audible that several glanced at him.
"Perhaps Mr. Fleet from his superior knowledge and long experience can settle this question," said Christine, sarcastically.
All eyes were turned toward him. He flushed painfully, but said nothing.
"Speak up," said Mr. Ludolph, good-naturedly, "if you have any opinion to give."
"I would not presume to give my opinion among so many more competent judges."