"I did not," replied Hora drily. "Myra scarcely shared my confidence though. She seemed to think that it was brutal of me to give you a chance of showing what you could do, when working on your own account."
The young man laughed again.
"These women—these women," he said. Then he turned to Myra. "I thought that you, at least, would have had confidence in me." He tossed his coat on to a chair, and going to her, encircled her waist with his arm. "Did you really think I should fail in my first coup?" he asked.
"No—no—no," she cried vehemently. "But, oh, Guy! I was afraid. If I could only have come with you—to have shared in the danger."
"Then I probably should have failed," he added. "As it is——"
He turned to Hora and there was a proud gleam in his eyes. "You must set me a more difficult task next time, Commandatore," he said.
"Then you have secured the picture?" asked the elder man eagerly.
For reply, Guy lifted the umbrella from the table where he had laid it down. To all appearance it was merely a specimen of the article it pretended to be, but in the young man's hands the handle unscrewed, revealing the fact that it was a sham. Instead of an umbrella, a long narrow case was revealed, and from within it Guy coaxed with infinite care a roll of canvas.
"It was rather a tight fit," he remarked, "but I don't think I have damaged the picture." He unrolled the canvas carefully on the table.
Hora's eyes sparkled as he looked down upon the painting.