"That's it," he said. "I buy it because Henson ask me to. Henson say he make it all right about the Rembrandt, and that if I do as I am told he give me £500. His money is to come on a certain day, but I pump and I pump, and I find that there is some game against Mr. Steel, who is a great novelist."
"That is very kind of you," David said, modestly.
"One against Miss Enid Henson," Van Sneck went on. "I met that young lady once and I liked her; therefore, I say I will be no party to getting her into trouble. And Henson says I am one big fool, and that he is only giving Mr. Steel a lesson in the art of minding his own business. So I ask no further questions, though I am a good bit puzzled. With the last bank-notes I possess I go to a place called Walen's and buy the cigar-case that Henson says. I meet him and hand over the case and ask him for my money. Henson swears that he has no money at all, not even enough to repay me the price of the cigar-case. He has been disappointed. And I have been drinking. So I swear I will write and ask Mr. Steel to see me, and I do so."
"And you get an answer?" David asked.
"Sir, I do. You said you would see me the same night. It was a forgery?"
"It was. Henson had anticipated something like that. I know all about the forgery, how my notepaper was procured, and when the forgery was written. But that has very little to do with the story now. Please go on."
Van Sneck paused before he proceeded.
"I am not quite sober," he said. "I am hot with what I called my wrongs. I come here and ring the bell. The hall was in darkness. There was a light in the conservatory, but none in the study. I quite believed that it was Mr. Steel who opened the door and motioned me towards the study. Then the door of the study closed and locked behind me, and the electric light shot up. When I turned round I found myself face to face with Henson."
Van Sneck paused again and shuddered at some hideous recollection. His eyes were dark and eager; there was a warm moisture like varnish on his face.
"Even that discovery did not quite sober me," he went on. "I fancied it was some joke, or that perhaps I had got into the wrong house. But no, it was the room of a literary gentleman. I—I expected to see Mr. Steel come in or to try the door. Henson smiled at me. Such a smile! He asked me if I had the receipt for the cigar-case about me, and I said it was in my pocket. Then he smiled again, and something told me my life was in danger.