Again there was the gleam, quickly masked, in the dealer's eyes. But Larry got it.
“How do I know this picture here isn't just an accident?—the only one of the sort Mr. Hunt has ever painted, or ever will paint?” cautiously inquired Mr. Graham. “You said you had a second picture. May I see it?”
Larry hesitated. But he believed he had the dealer almost “sold”; a little more and Mr. Graham would be convinced. So he brought in Maggie's portrait. The dealer looked it over with a face which he tried to keep expressionless.
“How much is this one?” he asked at length.
“It is not for sale.”
“It will bring more money than the other. It's a more interesting subject.”
“That's why I'm keeping it,” said Larry. “I think you'll admit, Mr. Graham, that this proves that Mr. Hunt is not now painting accidents.”
“You're right.” The mask suddenly dropped from Mr. Graham's face; he was no longer merely an art merchant; he was also an art enthusiast. “Hunt has struck something bold and fresh, and I think I can put him over. I'll try that scheme you mentioned. Tell me where I can find him and I'll see him at once.”
“That picture has got to be sold before I give you his address. No use seeing him until then; he'd laugh at you, and not listen to anything. He's sore at the world; thinks it doesn't understand him. An actual sale would be the only argument that would have weight with him.”
“All right—I'll buy the picture myself. Hunt and I have had a falling out, and I'd like him to have proof that I believe in him.” Again Mr. Graham was the art merchant. “Though, of course, I can't pay the five thousand you ask. Hunt's new manner may catch on, and it may not. It's a big gamble.”