It took him nearly half-an-hour to reveal a complete corner of the box. Then he sat back and examined it through a microscope. Jim waited patiently. At last Isaac put it down and tapped the table.
“This,” he said deliberately, “is a Limoges enamel box of the finest period. An amazing find! Where did you obtain it?”
“I bought it at a sale of the effects of an old lady named Brandt, at Greenwich. She died intestate, and had no relatives.”
“You are in luck’s way, Jim Canning.”
“But why was it painted dark-green?”
“There are many mysteries in our profession. It was probably stolen many years ago—possibly a century ago. The thief knew that the piece was too well-known to attempt to dispose of for some time. So for security be painted it in order to hide it. Then something happened. He may have died or been sent to prison. The box passed into other bands. Nobody worried about it. It was just an old iron box. It has probably been lying in a lumber-room for years.”
“It’s been lying in my shop for five months. Is it worth a great deal, Isaac?”
Isaac thoughtfully stroked his chin.
“I am of opinion that if it is undamaged, and if the rest of it is up to the standard of this part we have disclosed, it is worth many thousand pounds.”