At length officialdom seemed impressed.
"And it's been stolen?" said the spokesman of the law.
"What else under God's heaven did you think I sent for you about?" Markheim exploded. "You don't seem to understand this at all!"
"Italian, eh?" said the man in plain clothing. "International complications are very possible if the thing gets too much publicity. That's about the idea, isn't it?"
Markheim turned on him in some surprise.
"You seem to know a lot about the Italian Government's theories of ownership!" he snarled.
"So it was brought into the country illegally!" commented the detective. "Captain," he went on, addressing the now frankly bewildered officer, "you see this picture is not only far more valuable than most great jewels but it has a past almost as complicated as the Hope diamond. It's not unusual that a world-famous work of art should find its way out of Italy in spite of the Italian law, which forbids the export of such things, but the theft is far more remarkable than that of any jewel could possibly be, inasmuch as the supreme difficulty of disposing of the painting once it was stolen is obvious—that's right, isn't it, Mr. Markheim?"
"You explain it very well, very well," replied Markheim, nervous and excited—and truth to tell not a little affected by the cocktails he had imbibed. It was most precarious, taking so many upon an empty stomach, as he should have known. "You have a very clear idea, young man—though allow me to make it plain that I was in no way involved in the original affair of bringing this canvas into the United States. I had nothing whatsoever to do with it—nothing."
"You merely paid five hundred thousand for it after it got here," remarked Peaches. "I see."