The military gentleman was formally introduced as Sir Lucius Chesney. Jack shook hands with him nonchalantly, and wondered what was coming next; he did not much care. Sir Lucius regarded Jack carelessly at first, then with a stare that was almost impertinent. He adjusted a pair of gold-rimmed eye-glasses, and looked again. He leaned forward in his chair, under the influence of some strong agitation.
"Bless my soul!" he muttered, half audibly. "Very remarkable!"
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Jack.
"Nothing! nothing!" replied Sir Lucius, in some confusion. "So you are Mr. Vernon?"
"That is my name, sir."
Sir Lucius pulled himself together, and thoughtfully stroked his mustache. An awkward pause was broken by Mr. Lamb, who proceeded to state at some length the business that had rendered Jack's presence imperative. Sir Lucius listened with rising indignation, as the story poignantly recalled to him his bitter experience with the Munich Jew. Jack, seeing the ludicrous side, with difficulty repressed an inclination to smile.
"Let me have the picture," he said. "I can settle the question at once."
Sir Lucius rose eagerly from his seat. Mr. Lamb took the canvas from an open safe and spread it on the table. Jack bent over it, standing between the two. He laughed as he pointed to a peculiar brush-stroke—insignificant in the general effect—down in the lower right-hand corner.
"There is my mark," he said, "and this is the duplicate I painted for Martin Von Whele, nearly six years ago."
"I thought as much," exclaimed Mr. Lamb.