“You speak in riddles, sir.”
“But the riddle will very soon be answered, sir, if my cousin will do as I say. The first volume and the Fifth Ode. It will be most enlightening.”
Rensley went impatiently to the shelves. “Mountebank! What am I to find there?”
“The missing sketch, my dear Rensley, of course.”
“What!” Mr Clapperly looked up. “You put it there, sir?”
“I don’t believe it!” Rensley said, and went quickly up the ladder. He found the book, and pulled it out. A moment he fumbled with the clasps. The leaves parted naturally at the Fifth Ode. Mr Rensley stood staring down at the book.
Every head was turned his way. “Is it there?” demanded Mr Clapperly.
“You were told of this!” Rensley burst out, and flung the book violently to the ground. A drawing fluttered across the room, and was pounced on by Mr Fontenoy.
Instantly everyone save my lord went to peep over Mr Fontenoy’s shoulder. “It is certainly Robert Tremaine,” Mr Fontenoy said. He looked from it to my lord. “And there is — a likeness.”
“Why, damme, sir, the eyes and nose are exact!” cried Clevedale.