"I am sorry to hear that" he said. "I can scarcely believe that I have been imposed upon. I am somewhat of an authority on old masters, Mr. Lamb."
The dealer smiled faintly; he had known Sir Lucius in a business way for a number of years.
"The price you paid—eleven hundred pounds—favors my theory," he replied. "Your Munich Jew, whom I happen to know by repute, is a very clever scoundrel. It is most unlikely that he would have parted with a real Rembrandt for such a sum. But I will gladly refund you the amount if this proves to be the original."
"I don't want the money," growled Sir Lucius. "I dare say you are right, sir; and if so, it is not to my discredit that I have been taken in by such a perfect copy. Gad, it would have deceived Rembrandt himself! But the question still remains to be settled. How can that be done, and as quickly as possible?"
"Mr. Vernon, the artist, is the only person who can do that. He put a private mark on the duplicate—"
"Vernon—John Vernon?" interrupted Sir Lucius. "Surely, Victor, I have heard you mention that name?"
"Quite right, uncle," said Nevill. He made the admission promptly, foreseeing that a denial might have awkward consequences in the future. "I know Jack Vernon well," he added. "He is an old friend. But I am sorry to inform you that he is not in England at present."
This was false, for Nevill had noted in the morning paper that Jack was one of the passengers by the P. and O. steamship Ismaila, which had docked on the previous day. Mr. Lamb, it appeared, was not aware of the fact.
"Your nephew is correct, Sir Lucius," he said. "Mr. Vernon has been in India for some months, acting as special war artist for the Universe. But he is expected home very shortly—in the course of a week, I believe."
"I shall not be here then," said Sir Lucius. "I am to leave London to-day. What would you suggest?"