Herr Kronin paused, overcome by deep distress. His eyes behind the big glasses looked appealingly at Bruce.
"So you want to buy it from me," he suggested encouragingly.
"Oh, that is it, Herr Bruce, beyond doubt, that is it. It will be easier for me, I shall not be so distressed, if you let me make a bargain with you. Herr Bruce, I will give you £200 for the picture."
Bruce hesitated for a moment. But why not? The man was wealthy, and the picture was worth half what he asked, perhaps more, for experts are not always correct. And £200 would mean the beginning of the furnishing of the new house. Dim visions of a happy honeymoon rose before him.
"Very well," he said. "You shall have the picture. It is there on the sideboard wrapped up as my expert friend returned it. Where shall I have the pleasure of sending it for you?"
"I will take him with me." Kronin said eagerly. "It will be good to feel that I have got him, that there will be no more cups slipped from ze lip. Sentiment again! But there is no sentiment about these banknotes, my friend."
He counted out forty £5 Bank of England notes on the table with a hand that trembled strangely. He seemed restless and eager to be away now, as if fearful that Bruce might change his mind. The whole thing might have been a dream save for the crisp crackling notes on the table.
"Never rains but it pours," Bruce smiled as he thrust the notes in his breast pocket. "Tomorrow every penny goes for that wonderful lot of old furniture in Tottenham Court Road. What a pleasant surprise for Hetty!"
It required some strength of mind to keep the secret from the girl, but Bruce managed it. It seemed to him that Hetty looked a little white and drawn, but as the evening went on the happy look came back to her eyes again. There was a small fernery at the back of the dining-room into which Gordon hurried Hetty presently.
"My dearest girl, what is the matter?" he asked.