Once more Mr Lawson looked into the General’s face, doubtful whether he was not dreaming—either that or demented.
“No!” exclaimed the old soldier, bringing his cane down upon the pavement with an emphatic stroke. “There can be no mistake about it; it is the same scene. Alas! too real. Those figures, Mr Lawson, are portraits, or intended to be so. The costumes alone would enable me to recognise them. He, holding the knife, is my eldest son, Nigel, just as he was some five years ago; the other is Henry. The man in the background is, or was, my gamekeeper—since become a poacher and escaped convict. What can it mean? Who can have heard of the occurrence? Who painted the picture?”
“Perhaps,” suggested the solicitor, “this person can tell us something about it. I say, my good woman, how came you by this?”
“That picture ye mean? How should I come by it, but by buyin’ it? It’s a first-class paintin’; only thirty shillin’, an’ ’ud look spicy set in a frame. Dirt cheap, gentlemen.”
“Do you know who you bought it from?”
“In course I do. Oh, you needn’t be afeerd of its bein’ honestly come by, if that’s what you’re drivin’ at. I know all about its pedigree, for I know the painter as painted it; he’s a regular artist, he is.”
“What sort of a man is he?”
“He’s a young un; they’re both young uns, for there be two on ’em. One appear to be a furrener—a Italyin, I think. The other ain’t so old—he’s English, I should say. Don’t know which paints the pictures. Maybe both takes a hand at it, for both brings ’em to sell. I had some more o’ them, but they’re sold. I dare say the old un’s the one as is the artist.”
“Do you know his name?” asked the General, with an eagerness that caused the woman to look suspiciously at him, and hesitate about making reply. “I am interested,” he continued, “in whoever painted this picture. I admire it, and will buy it from you. I’ll take more from the same hand, if you can furnish me with the name and address.”
“Oh, that’s it. Well, then, the black complected chap—that is the old un—his name is a furren’ one, an’ I’ve heard it, but don’t recollect it. The other’s name I never heard, an’ as for him, I ’spect he’s gone away. I ha’n’t seen him here lately—not for months.”