If Lieutenant Warren recognized the man, neither Norma nor Carl Langer could have detected it from her action. She thanked him for his interest and repeated her desire to see his masterpiece.
“You shall see it at once,” he assured them. “After that we will have some tea—tea brought straight from India. You don’t often get that. But first—”
He stepped to a table to press a hidden buzzer that sounded in a distant room.
“Is that for a servant or a couple of murderers?” Norma asked herself with a shudder. To Lieutenant Warren she whispered, “India!”
Lieutenant Warren lifted her eyebrows—that was all.
“Now if you will come this way,” said their strange host, leading the way.
As they passed down a long corridor, Norma stole a glance or two into other rooms. In one, whose door stood ajar, she saw an open traveling bag, half packed.
“What is that for?” she asked herself.
At the far end of the hall they entered a room where but one light shone. This came from a long slender tube close to the ceiling. This light fell upon a large canvas.
Striking a pose, Carl Langer said, “Well, what do you think?”