“If you and Sir Arthur will sell! But as you know they are heirlooms, and you could stop it.”
“On the contrary, I am ready to agree to it,” said Falloden briefly. “But there will be a lot of legal business, won’t there?”
“Certainly. But it can all be put through in time. And directly it was known that you would sell, the whole situation would be changed.”
“We might save something out of the wreck?” said Falloden, looking up.
The lawyer nodded gravely.
“Something—certainly.”
“What are they worth?” said Falloden, taking a note-book from his pocket, and looking at a list scribbled on its first page.
Mr. Gregory laughed.
“There is no market in the ordinary sense for such pictures as yours. There are only half a dozen millionaires in the world who could buy them—and one or two museums.” He paused a moment, looking thoughtfully at the young man before him. “There happens, however,”—he spoke slowly—“to be a buyer at this moment in London, whom it would be difficult to beat—in the matter of millions.”
He mentioned the name.