"Perhaps they did. I kept on bidding."
"Just so. It's a little way they have. Very, very jealous, some of them. You have been successful. Success makes enemies. I have enemies. There are men in London who accuse me of abominable, unmentionable things." He smiled modestly, spreading out his hands.
"You can afford to laugh at 'em, Mr. Pressland."
"I do."
"Am I to take it from you, sir, that Angelica did not paint those panels?"
Pressland shrugged his shoulders.
"I am of opinion, and I may well be mistaken, that those panels were painted after Angelica Kauffman's death, probably by a clever pupil. But please ask somebody else."
He drifted away, promising to call again, assuring Quinney that he would send him customers.
III
Susan had the story red-hot from his trembling lips about ten minutes later.