"I'll make it a point to be there."
"I shall phone you then, Mr. Tarrant, and advise you concerning our success or failure."
He gave Jeff a receipt and noted his name and room number. Jeff left the galleries, knowing that he had taken a gamble. But who hoped to win had to take chances. With nothing else to do, he gave the rest of the day and most of the next morning to wandering about Ackerton. He returned to his room at twenty to twelve, and exactly twenty minutes later his phone rang.
"Mr. Tarrant," it was the desk clerk, "there's a Mr. Murchison here to see you."
"Send him in."
Jeff opened the door for Raold Murchison, and no matter where he stood, he would still be master of the Murchison Galleries.
"I came in person, Mr. Tarrant, because that seemed best."
"Indeed?"
"Yes, we succeeded in locating the exact duplicate of your tapestry."
Jeff gave thanks for his ability to wear a poker face when such was in order. If the Murchison Galleries had located the twin of Granny's The Last Supper, Granny had made it. And Raold Murchison wouldn't even know how to talk to her.