"Oh, no, certainly not. Only I've heard it said that unscrupulous dealers sometimes resort to tricks."
"I pride myself upon having a streak of Yankee shrewdness," Mrs. Dillon said, "and I do know art. When I saw this picture I recognized it instantly as one I had seen at the Gage Galleries. Of course, the dealer didn't claim it was the genuine Rembrandt—quite the contrary."
"Then aren't you afraid——?"
"Not in the least," Mrs. Dillon interrupted. "Naturally, the dealer wouldn't subject himself to arrest by acknowledging that he was selling stolen property."
"The painting is a very fine one," the other woman declared, "but I can't say I should care to own it myself. You'll never be able to display it openly."
"Perhaps not, but I can show it privately to my friends and I'll derive satisfaction just from knowing I own it."
"But if the police should suspect——"
"They won't, unless someone reports me. So far you are the only person who knows that I have the painting."
"Oh, you may trust me, Mrs. Dillon. I'll never give you away."
"If the picture should ever be traced to me I can always claim that I was an innocent purchaser," Mrs. Dillon chuckled. "In fact, I don't know that this is the same picture that was taken from the Gage Galleries. The dealer didn't tell me that it was an original."