"But I read to-day that it is still in Littimer Castle," said David.
"Another one," Bell observed. "Oblige me by opening yonder parcel. There you see is the print that I purchased to-day for £5. This, this, my friend, is the print that was stolen from Littimer's lodgings in Amsterdam. If you look closely at it you will see four dull red spots in the left-hand corner. They are supposed to be blood-spots from a cut finger of the artist. I am prepared to swear that this is the very print, frame and all, that was purchased in Amsterdam from that shady scoundrel Van Sneck."
"But Littimer is credited with having one in his collection,"
David urged.
"He has one in his collection," Bell said, coolly, "And, moreover, he is firmly under the impression that he is at present happy in the possession of his own lost treasure. And up to this very day I was under exactly the same delusion. Now I know that there must have been two copies of the plate, and that this knowledge was used to ruin me."
"But," Steel murmured, "I don't exactly see—"
"I am just coming to that. We hunted high and low for the picture, but nowhere could it be found. The affair created a profound impression in Amsterdam. A day or two later Von Gulden went back to his duty on the Belgian frontier and business called me home. I packed my solitary portmanteau and departed. When I arrived at the frontier I opened my luggage for the Custom officer and the whole contents were turned out without ceremony. On the bottom was a roll of paper on a stick that I quite failed to recognise. An inquisitive Customs House officer opened it and immediately called the lieutenant in charge. Strange to say, he proved to be Von Gulden. He came up to me, very gravely, with the paper in his hand.
"'May I inquire how this came amongst your luggage?' he asked.
"I could say nothing; I was dumb. For there lay the Rembrandt. The red spots had been smudged out of the corner, but there, the picture was.
"Well, I lost my head then. I accused Von Gulden of all kinds of disgraceful things. And he behaved like a gentleman—he made me ashamed of myself. But he kept the picture and returned it to Littimer, and I was ruined. Lord Littimer declined to prosecute, but he would not see me and he would hear of no explanation. Indeed, I had none to offer. Enid refused to see me also or reply to my letters. The story of my big gambling debt, and its liquidation, got about. Steel, I was ruined. Some enemy had done this thing, and from that day to this I have been a marked man."
"But how on earth was it done?" Steel cried.