"We were all getting on very well together at that time when Lord Littimer's sister paid us a visit. She came accompanied by a daughter called Enid. I will not describe her, because no words of mine could do her justice. In a word, I fell over head and ears in love with Enid, and in that state I have remained ever since. Of all the crosses that I have to bear the knowledge that I love Enid and that she loves—and despises—me, is by far the heaviest. But I don't want to dwell upon ythat."
"We were a very happy party there until Van Sneck and Von Gulden turned up. Enid and I had come to an understanding, and, though we kept our secret, we were not going to do so for long. From the very first Von Gulden admired her. He was a handsome, swaggering soldier, a good-looking, wealthy man, who had a great reputation for gallantry, and something worse. Perhaps the fellow guessed how things lay, for he never troubled to conceal his dislike and contempt for me. It is no fault of mine that I am extremely sensitive as to my personal appearance, but Von Gulden played upon it until he drove me nearly mad. He challenged me sneeringly to certain sports wherein he knew I could not shine; he challenged me to écarté, where I fancied I was his master.
"Was I? Well, we had been dining that night, and perhaps too freely, for I entirely lost my head before I began the game in earnest. Those covert sneers had nearly driven me mad. To make a long story short, when I got up from the table that night, I owed my opponent nearly £800, without the faintest prospect of paying a tenth part of it. I was only a poor, ambitious young man then, with my way to make in the world. And if that money were not forthcoming in the next few days I was utterly ruined."
"The following morning the great discovery was made. The Van Sneck I have alluded to was an artist, a dealer, a man of the shadiest reputation, whom my patron, Lord Littimer, had picked up. It was Van Sneck who produced the copy of 'The Crimson Blind.' Not only did he produce the copy, but he produced the history from some recently discovered papers relating to the Keizerskroon Tavern of the year 1656, which would have satisfied a more exacting man than Littimer. In the end the Viscount purchased the engraving for £800 English.
"You can imagine how delighted he was with his prize—he had secured an engraving by Rembrandt that was absolutely unique. Under more favourable circumstances I should have shared that pleasure. But I was face to face with ruin, and therefore I had but small heart for rejoicing.
"I came down the next morning after a sleepless night, and with a wild endeavour to scheme some way of getting the money to pay my creditor. To my absolute amazement I found a polite note from the lieutenant coldly thanking me for the notes I had sent him by messenger, and handing me a formal receipt for £800. At first I regarded it as a hoax. But, with all his queer ways, Von Gulden was a gentleman. Somebody had paid the debt for me. And somebody had, though I have never found out to this day."
"All the same, you have your suspicions?" Steel suggested.
"I have a very strong suspicion, but I have never been able to verify it. All the same, you can imagine what an enormous weight it was off my mind, and how comparatively cheerful I was as I crossed over to the hotel of Lord Littimer after breakfast. I found him literally beside himself with passion. Some thief had got into his room in the night and stolen his Rembrandt. The frame was intact, but the engraving had been rolled up and taken away."
"Very like the story of the stolen Gainsborough."
"No doubt the one theft inspired the other. I was sent off on foot to look for Van Sneck, only to find that he had suddenly left the city. He had got into trouble with the police, and had fled to avoid being sent to gaol. And from that day to this nothing has been seen of that picture."