"I hope his lack of discrimination will not lead him to believe that I was delivering a love pat," said I, grimly.
"Now, tell me everything that happened," she said, seating herself in my big armchair. Her feet failed to touch the floor. She was wearing the little tan pumps.
When I came to that part of the story where I accused Tarnowsy of duplicity in connection with the frescoes, she betrayed intense excitement.
"Of course it was all a bluff on my part," I explained.
"But you were nearer the truth than you thought," she said, compressing her lips. After a moment she went on: "Count Hohendahl sold the originals over three years ago. I was here with Maris at the time of the transaction and when the paintings were removed. Maris acted as an intermediary in the deal. Hohendahl received two hundred thousand dollars for the paintings, but they were worth it. I have reason to believe that Maris had a fourth of the amount for his commission. So, you see, you were right in your surmise."
"The infernal rascal! Where are the originals, Countess?"
"They are in my father's villa at Newport," she said. "I intended speaking of this to you before, but I was afraid your pride would be hurt. Of course, I should have spoken if it came to the point where you really considered having those forgeries restored."
"Your father bought them?"
"Yes. While we were spending our honeymoon here in Schloss Rothhoefen, Mr. Smart," she said. Her face was very pale.
I could see that the dark associations filled her mind, and abruptly finished my tale without further reference to the paintings.