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diff --git a/old/68520-0.txt b/old/68520-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index df10a01..0000000 --- a/old/68520-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10871 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Van Roon, by J. C. Snaith - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Van Roon - -Author: J. C. Snaith - -Release Date: July 13, 2022 [eBook #68520] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team - at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images - generously made available by University of California - libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VAN ROON *** - - - - - -THE VAN ROON - - - - - By - - J. C. SNAITH - - - THE VAN ROON - THE COUNCIL OF SEVEN - THE ADVENTUROUS LADY - THE UNDEFEATED - THE SAILOR - THE TIME SPIRIT - THE COMING - ANNE FEVERSHAM - - - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - Publishers New York - - - - - THE VAN ROON - - BY - - J. C. SNAITH - - AUTHOR OF “THE SAILOR,” “THE UNDEFEATED,” - “THE COUNCIL OF SEVEN,” ETC. - - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - NEW YORK :: LONDON :: MCMXXII - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - - - Copyright, 1922, by the Curtis Publishing Co. - PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - -THE VAN ROON - - -I - - -NORTH of the Strand, east of the National Gallery, a narrow -street winds a devious course towards Long Acre. To the casual eye -it is no more than a mean and dingy thoroughfare without charm or -interest, but for the connoisseur it has its legend. Here Swinburne -came upon his famous copy of “The Faerie Queene”; here more than one -collection has been enriched by a Crome, a Morland, a choice miniature, -a first proof or some rare unsuspected article of bigotry and virtue. - -On the right, going from Charing Cross, halfway up the street, a shop, -outwardly inconspicuous, bears on its front in plain gilt letters the -name S. Gedge, Antiques. - -A regard for the _mot juste_ could omit the final letter. S. -Gedge Antique was nearer the fact. To look at, the proprietor of the -business was an antique of the most genuine kind, whose age, before he -was dressed for the day, might have been anything. When, however, he -had “tidied himself up” to sit at the receipt of a custom, a process -involving a shave, the putting on of collar and dickey, prehistoric -frock coat, new perhaps for the Prince Consort’s funeral, and a -pair of jemimas that also were “of the period,” his years, in spite -of a yellow parchment countenance of an incredible cunning, could at -conservative estimate be reckoned as seventy. - -On a certain morning of September, the years of the proprietor of S. -Gedge Antiques, whatever they might be, sat heavily upon him. Tall, -sombre, gaunt, a cross between a hop-pole and a moulting vulture, his -tattered dressing gown and chessboard slippers lent a touch of fantasy -to his look of eld, while the collar and dickey of commerce still -adorned the back kitchen dresser. - -Philosophers say that to find a reason for everything is only a -question of looking. The reason for the undress of S. Gedge Antiques so -late as eleven o’clock in the morning was not far to seek. His right -hand man and sole assistant, who answered to the name of William, and -who was never known or called by any other, had been away for an annual -holiday of one week, which this year he had spent in Suffolk. He was -due back in the course of that day and his master would raise a pæan -on his return. In the absence of William the indispensable S. Gedge -Antiques was like a windjammer on a lee shore. - -There was a further reason for his lost air. He was “at outs” with -Mrs. Runciman, his charwoman, a state of affairs which had long -threatened to become chronic. An old, and in her own opinion, an -undervalued retainer, the suspension of diplomatic relations between -Mrs. Runciman and her employer could always be traced to one cause. S. -Gedge attributed it to the phases of the moon and their effect on the -human female, but the real root of the mischief was Mrs. Runciman’s -demand for “a raise in her celery.” For many years past the lady had -held that her services were worth more than “half a crown a day and her -grub.” The invariable reply of her master was that he had never paid -more to a char all the time he had been in trade and that if she wanted -more she could keep away. This Thursday morning, according to precedent -when matters came to a head, Mrs. Runciman had taken him at his word. -The old man knew, however, that her absence would only be temporary. A -single day off would vindicate the rights of woman. As sure as the sun -rose on the morrow Mrs. R. would return impenitent but in better fettle -for charring. But as he made a point of telling her, she would play the -trick once too often. - -Char-less for the time being, assistant-less also, this morning S. -Gedge was not only looking his age, he was feeling it; but he had -already begun to examine the contents of a large packing case from -Ipswich which Messrs. Carter Paterson had delivered half an hour ago -at the back of the premises by the side entry. Handicapped as S. Gedge -Antiques at the moment was, he could well have deferred these labours -until later in the day. Human curiosity, however, had claimed him as a -victim. - -By a side wind he had heard of a sale at a small and rather -inaccessible house in the country where a few things might be going -cheap. As this was to take place in the course of William’s holiday, -the young man had been given a few pounds to invest, provided that -in his opinion “the goods were full value.” By trusting William to -carry out an operation of such delicacy, his master whose name in -trade circles was that of “a very keen buyer” was really paying him -the highest compliment in his power. For the god of S. Gedge Antiques -was money. In the art of “picking things up,” however, William had a -lucky touch. His master could depend as a rule on turning over a few -shillings on each of the young man’s purchases; indeed there were -occasions when the few shillings had been many. The truth was that -William’s flair for a good thing was almost uncanny. - -Adroit use of a screwdriver prised the lid off the packing case. A top -layer of shavings was removed. With the air of a _dévot_ the old -man dug out William’s first purchase and held it up to the light of New -Cross Street, or to as much of that dubious commodity as could filter -down the side entry. - -Purchase the first proved to be a copy of an engraving by P. -Bartolozzi: the _Mrs. Lumley and Her Children_ of Sir Joshua -Reynolds. An expert eye priced it at once a safe thirty shillings in -the window of the front shop, although William had been told not to -exceed a third of that sum at Loseby Grange, Saxmundham. So far so -good. With a feeling of satisfaction S. Gedge laid the engraving upon -a chair of ornate appearance but doubtful authenticity, and proceeded -to remove more straw from the packing case. Before, however, he could -deal with William’s second purchase, whatever it might be, he was -interrupted. - -A voice came from the front shop. - -“Uncle Si! Uncle Si! Where are you?” - -The voice was feminine. S. Gedge Antiques, crusted bachelor and -confirmed hater of women, felt a sudden pang of dismay. - -“Where are you, Uncle Si?” - -“Com-ming!” A low roar boomed from the interior of the packing case. -It failed, however, to get beyond the door of the lumber room. - -“That girl of Abe’s” ruminated the old man deep in straw. In the stress -of affairs, he had almost forgotten that the only child of a half -brother many years his junior, was coming to London by the morning -train. - -“Uncle Si!” - -With a hiss of disgust worthy of an elderly cobra he writhed his head -free of the straw. “Confound her, turning up like this. Why couldn’t -she come this afternoon when the boy’d be home? But that’s a woman. -They’re born as cross as Christmas.” - -A third time his name was called. - -S. Gedge Antiques, unshaven, beslippered, bespectacled, slowly emerged -from the decent obscurity of the back premises into the fierce -publicity of the front shop. He was greeted by a sight of which his -every instinct profoundly disapproved. - -The sight was youthful, smiling, fresh complexioned. In a weak moment, -for which mentally he had been kicking himself round the shop ever -since, he had been so unwise as to offer to adopt this girl who had -lost her father some years ago and had lately buried her mother. Carter -Paterson had delivered her trunk along with the packing case from -Ipswich, a fact he now recalled. - -Had S. Gedge had an eye for anything but antiques, he must have seen at -once that his niece was by way of being a decidedly attractive young -woman. She was nineteen, and she wore a neat well-fitting black dress -and a plain black hat in which cunning and good taste were mingled. -Inclined to be tall she was slender and straight and carried herself -well. Her eyes were clear, shrewd and smiling. In fact they appeared -to smile quite considerably at the slow emergence from the back -premises of S. Gedge Antiques. - -In the girl’s hand was a pilgrim basket, which she put carefully on -a gate-legged table, marked “£4.19.6, a great bargain” and then very -fearlessly embraced its owner. - -“How are you, niece?” gasped the old man who felt that an affront had -been offered to the dignity of the human male. - -“Thank you, Uncle Si, I’m first rate,” said the girl trying for the -sake of good manners not to smile too broadly. - -“Had a comfortable journey?” - -“Oh, yes, thank you.” - -“Didn’t expect you so soon. However, your box has come. By the way, -what’s your name? I’ve forgotten it.” - -“June.” - -“June, eh? One of these new fangled affairs,” S. Gedge spoke -aggrievedly. “Why not call yourself December and have done with it?” - -“I will if you like,” said June obligingly. “But it seems rather long. -Do you care for De, Cem, or Ber for short?” - -“It don’t matter. What’s in a name? I only thought it sounded a bit -sloppy and new fangled.” - -The eyes of June continued to regard S. Gedge Antiques with a demure -smile. He did not see the smile. He only saw her and she was a matter -for grave reflection. - - - - -II - - -S. GEDGE ANTIQUES peered dubiously at his niece. He had a -dislike of women and more than any other kind he disliked young women. -But one fact was already clear; he had let himself in for it. Frowning -at this bitter thought he cast his mind back in search of a reason. -Knowing himself so well he was sure that a reason there must be and -a good one for so grave an indiscretion. Suddenly he remembered the -charwoman and his brow cleared a little. - -“Let me have a look at you, niece.” As a hawk might gaze at a wren he -gazed at June through his spectacles. “Tall and strong seemingly. I -hope you’re not afraid of hard work.” - -“I’m not afraid of anything, Uncle Si,” said June with calm precision. - -“No answers,” said S. Gedge curtly. “If you intend to stay here you’ve -got to mind your p’s and q’s and you’ve got to earn your keep.” He -sighed and impatiently plucked the spectacles from his nose. “Thought -so,” he snarled. “I’m looking at you with my selling spectacles. For -this job I’ll need my buying ones.” - -Delving into the capacious pockets of his dressing gown, the old man -was able to produce a second pair of glasses. He adjusted them grimly. -“Now I can begin to see you. Favour your father seemingly. And he was -never a mucher--wasn’t your father.” - -“Dad is dead, Uncle Si.” There was reproof in June’s strong voice. -“And he was a very good man. There was never a better father than Dad.” - -“Must have been a good man. He hardly left you and your mother the -price of his funeral.” - -“It wasn’t Dad’s fault that he was unlucky in business.” - -“Unlucky.” S. Gedge Antiques gave a sharp tilt to his “buying” -spectacles. “I don’t believe in luck myself.” - -“Don’t you?” said June, with a touch of defiance. - -“No answers.” Uncle Si held up a finger of warning. “Your luck is -you’re not afraid of work. If you stop here you’ll have to stir -yourself.” - -June confessed a modest willingness to do her best. - -S. Gedge continued to gaze at her. It was clear that he had undertaken -an immense responsibility. A live sharp girl, nineteen years of age, -one of these modern hussies, with opinions of her own, was going to -alter things. It was no use burking the fact, but a wise man would have -looked it in the face a little sooner. - -“The char is taking a day off,” he said, breaking this reverie. “So I’d -better give you a hand with your box. You can then change your frock -and come and tidy up. If you give your mind to your job I daresay I’ll -be able to do without the char altogether. The woman’s a nuisance, as -all women are. But she’s the worst kind of a nuisance, and I’ve been -trying to be quit of her any time this ten years.” - -In silence June followed Uncle Si kitchenwards, slowly removing a pair -of black kid gloves as she did so. He helped her to carry a trunk -containing all her worldly possessions up a steep, narrow, twisty -flight of uncarpeted stairs to a tiny attic, divided by a wooden -partition from a larger one, and lit by a grimy window in the roof. It -was provided with a bedstead, a mattress, a chest of drawers, a washing -stand and a crazy looking-glass. - -“When the boy comes, he’ll find you a couple o’ blankets, I daresay. -Meantime you can fall to as soon as you like.” - -June lost no time in unpacking. She then exchanged her new mourning -for an old dress in which to begin work. As she did so her depression -was terrible. The death of her mother, a month ago, had meant the loss -of everything she valued in the world. There was no one else, no other -thing that mattered. But she had promised that she would be a brave -girl and face life with a stout heart, and she was going to be as good -as her word. - -For that reason she did not allow herself to spend much time over the -changing of her dress. She would have liked to sit on the edge of -the small bed in that dismal room and weep. The future was an abyss. -Her prospects were nil. She had ambition, but she lacked the kind of -education and training that could get her out of the rut; and all the -money she had in the world, something less than twenty pounds, was in -her purse in a roll of notes, together with a few odd shillings and -coppers. Nothing more remained of the sum that had been realized by the -sale of her home, which her mother and she had striven so hard to keep -together. And when this was gone she would have to live on the charity -of her Uncle Si, who was said to be a very hard man and for whom she -had already conceived an odd dislike, or go out and find something to -do. - -Such an outlook was grim. But as June put on an old house frock she -shut her lips tight and determined not to think about to-morrow. -Uncle Si had told her to clean out the grate in the back kitchen. She -flattered herself that she could clean out a grate with anybody. Merely -to stop the cruel ache at the back of her brain she would just think of -her task, and nothing else. - -In about ten minutes June came down the attic stairs, fully equipped -even to an overall which she had been undecided whether to pack in her -box but had prudently done so. - -“Where are the brushes and dust pan, Uncle Si?” - -“In the cupboard under the scullery sink.” A growl emerged from the -packing case, followed by a gargoyle head. “And when you are through -with the kitchen grate you can come and clear up this litter, and then -you can cook a few potatoes for dinner--that’s if you know how.” - -“Of course I know how,” said June. - -“Your mother seems to have brought you up properly. If you give your -mind to your job and you’re not above soiling your hands I quite expect -we’ll be able to do without the char.” - -June, her large eyes fixed on Uncle Si, did not flinch from the -prospect. She went boldly, head high, in the direction of the scullery -sink while S. Gedge Antiques proceeded to burrow deeper and deeper into -the packing case. - -Presently he dug out a bowl of Lowestoft china, which he tapped with a -finger nail and held up to the light. - -“It’s a good piece,” he reflected. “There’s one thing to be said for -that boy--he don’t often make mistakes. I wonder what he paid for -this. However, I shall know presently,” and S. Gedge placed the bowl on -a chair opposite the engraving “after” P. Bartolozzi. - -His researches continued, but there was not much to follow. Still, -that was to be expected. William had only been given twenty pounds and -the bowl alone was a safe fiver. The old man was rather sorry that -William had not been given more to invest. However, there was a copper -coal-scuttle that might be polished up to fetch three pounds, and a -set of fire irons and other odds and ends, not of much account in -themselves, but all going to show that good use had been made of the -money. - -“Niece,” called Uncle Si when at last the packing case was empty, “come -and give a hand here.” - -With bright and prompt efficiency June helped to clear up the débris -and to haul the packing case into the backyard. - -The old man said at the successful conclusion of these operations: - -“Now see what you can do with those potatoes. Boil ’em in their skins. -There’s less waste that way and there’s more flavour.” - -“What time is dinner, Uncle Si?” - -“One o’clock sharp.” - -S. Gedge Antiques, having put on his collar, and discarded his dressing -gown for the frock coat of commerce, shambled forward into the front -shop with the air of a man who has no time to waste upon trivialities. -So far things were all right. The girl seemed willing and capable -and he hoped she would continue to be respectful. The times were -against it, certainly. In the present era of short skirts, open-work -stockings, fancy shoes and bare necks, it was hard, even for experts -like himself, to say what the world was coming to. Girls of the new -generation were terribly independent. They would sauce you as soon -as look at you, and there was no doubt they knew far more than their -grandmothers. In taking under his roof the only child of a half-brother -who had died worth precious little, S. Gedge Antiques was simply asking -for trouble. At the same time there was no need to deny that June -had begun well, and if at eight o’clock the next morning he was in a -position to say, “Mrs. R. you can take another day off and get yourself -a better billet,” he would feel a happier man. - -A voice with a ring in it came from the shop threshold. “Uncle Si, how -many potatoes shall I cook?” - -“Three middling size. One for me, one for you, one for William if he -comes. And if he don’t come, he can have it cold for his supper.” - -“Or I can fry it,” said the voice from the threshold. - -“You can fry it?” S. Gedge peered towards the voice over the top of his -“buying” spectacles. “Before we go in for fancy work let us see what -sort of a job you make of a plain bilin’. Pigs mustn’t begin to fly too -early--not in the West Central postal district.” - -“I don’t know much about pigs,” said June, calmly, “but I’ll boil a -potato with anyone.” - -“And eat one too I expect,” said S. Gedge severely closuring the -incident. - -The axiom he had just laid down applied to young female pigs -particularly. - - - - -III - - -S. GEDGE ANTIQUES, feather duster in hand, began to flick -pensively a number of articles of bigotry and virtue. The occupation -amused him. It was not that he had any great regard for the things he -sold, but each was registered in his mind as having been bought for so -much at So-and-So’s sale. A thoroughly competent man he understood his -trade. He had first set up in business in the year 1879. That was a -long time ago, but it was his proud boast that he had yet to make his -first serious mistake. Like everyone else, he had made mistakes, but it -pleased him to think that he had never been badly “let in.” His simple -rule was not to pay a high price for anything. Sometimes he missed a -bargain by not taking chances, but banking on certainties brought peace -of mind and a steady growth of capital. - -Perhaps the worst shot he had ever made was the queer article to which -he now applied the duster. A huge black jar, about six feet high and -so fantastically hideous in design as to suggest the familiar of a -Caribbean witch doctor or the joss of a barbarous king, held a position -of sufficient prominence on the shop floor for his folly to be ever -before him. Years ago he had taken this grinning, wide-mouthed monster, -shaped and featured like Moloch, in exchange for a bad debt, hoping -that in the course of time he would be able to trade it away. As yet -he had not succeeded. Few people apparently had a use for such an -evil-looking thing which took up so much house room. S. Gedge Antiques -was loth to write it off a dead loss, but he had now come to regard -it as “a hoodoo.” He was not a superstitious man but he declared it -brought bad luck. On several occasions when a chance seemed to arise of -parting with it to advantage, something had happened to the intending -purchaser; indeed it would have called for no great effort of the -imagination to believe that a curse was upon it. - -By an association of ideas, as the feathers flicked that surface of -black lacquer, the mind of S. Gedge reverted to his niece. She, too, -was a speculation, a leap in the dark. You never knew where you were -with women. Now that the fools in Parliament had given females a vote -the whole sex was demoralised. He had been terribly rash; and he could -tell by the look of the girl that she had a large appetite. Still if he -could do without “that woman” it would be something. - -The picture, however, was not all dark. A flick of the feathers -emphasised its brighter side as William recurred suddenly to his mind. -Taking all things into account, he was ready to own that the able youth -was the best bargain he had ever made. Some years ago, William, a -needy lad of unknown origin, had been engaged at a very small wage to -run errands and to make himself of general use. Finding him extremely -intelligent and possessed of real aptitude, his master with an eye -to the future, had taught him the trade. And he had now become so -knowledgeable that for some little time past he had been promoted to an -active part in the business. - -If William had a fault it was that in his master’s opinion he was -almost too honest. Had it been humanly possible for S. Gedge Antiques -to trust any man with a thousand pounds, William undoubtedly would have -been that man. Besides, he had grown so expert that his employer was -learning to rely more and more upon his judgment. The time had come -when S. Gedge Antiques had need of young eyes in the most delicate art -of choosing the right thing to buy; and this absolutely dependable -young man had now taken rank in his master’s mind, perhaps in a -higher degree than that master recognised, as an asset of priceless -value. Sooner or later, if William went on in his present way, the -long-deferred rise in his wages would have to enter the region of -practical politics. For example, there was this packing case from -Ipswich. Without indulgence in flagrant optimism--and the old man was -seldom guilty of that--there was a clear profit already in sight. The -bowl of Lowestoft might fetch anything up to ten pounds and even then -it would be “a great bargain at clearance sale prices.” Then there was -the engraving. William had a nose for such things; indeed his master -often wondered how a young chap with no education to speak of could -have come by it. - -At this point there was heard a quiet and respectful: “Good morning, -sir.” - -S. Gedge, standing with his back to the shop door, the china bowl again -in hand, was taken by surprise. William was not expected before the -afternoon. - -That young man was rather tall and rather slight; he was decidedly -brown from the sun of East Anglia; and some people might have -considered him handsome. In his left hand he carried a small gladstone -bag. And beneath his right arm was an article wrapped in brown paper. - -“Ah, that’s the bowl,” said William eagerly. “A nice piece, sir, isn’t -it?” - -“I may be able to tell you more about that,” the cautious answer, “when -I know what you gave for it.” - -William had given thirty shillings. - -S. Gedge Antiques tapped the bowl appraisingly. “Thirty shillings! But -that’s money.” - -“I’m sure it’s a good piece, sir.” - -“Well, you may be right,” said S. Gedge grudgingly. “Lowestoft is -fetching fair prices just now. What’s that under your arm?” - -“It’s something I’ve bought for myself, sir.” - -“Out of the money I gave you?” said the old man as keen as a goshawk. - -“No, sir,” said William with great simplicity. “Your money was all in -the packing case. I’ll give you an account of every penny.” - -“Well, what’s the thing you’ve bought for yourself,” said the master -sternly. - -“It’s a small picture I happened to come across in an old shop at -Crowdham Market.” - -“Picture, eh?” S. Gedge Antiques dubiously scratched a scrub of whisker -with the nail of his forefinger. “Don’t fancy pictures myself. Chancey -things are pictures. Never brought _me_ much luck. However, I’ll -have a look at it. Take off the paper.” - -William took off the paper and handed to his master the article it had -contained. With a frown of petulant disgust the old man held an ancient -and dilapidated daub up to the light. So black it was with grime and -age that to his failing eyes not so much as a hint of the subject was -visible. - -“Nothing to write home about anyhow,” was the sour comment. “Worth -nothing beyond the price of the frame. And I should put that”--S. Gedge -pursed a mouth of professional knowledge--“at five shillings.” - -“Five shillings, sir, is what I paid for it.” - -“Not worth bringing home.” S. Gedge shook a dour head. Somehow he -resented his assistant making a private purchase, but that may have -been because there was nothing in the purchase when made. “Why buy a -thing like that?” - -William took the picture gravely from his master and held it near the -window. - -“I have an idea, sir, there may be a subject underneath.” - -“Don’t believe in ideas myself,” snapped S. Gedge, taking a microscope -from the counter. After a brief use of it he added, “There may be a bit -o’ badly painted still life, but what’s the good o’ that.” - -“I’ve a feeling, sir, there’s something below it.” - -“Rubbish anyhow. It’ll be a fortnight’s job to get the top off and -then like as not you’ll have wasted your time. Why buy a pig in a poke -when you might have invested your five shillings in a bit more china? -However, it’s no affair of mine.” - -“There’s something there, sir, under those flowers, I feel sure,” said -the young man taking up the microscope and gazing earnestly at the -picture. “But what it is I can’t say.” - -“Nor can anyone else. However, as I say, it’s your funeral. In our -trade there’s such a thing as being too speculative, and don’t forget -it, boy.” - -“I might find a thing worth having, sir,” William ventured to say. - -“Pigs might fly,” snapped S. Gedge Antiques, his favourite formula for -clinching an argument. - -The mention of pigs, no doubt again by an association of ideas, enabled -S. Gedge to notice, which he might have done any time for two minutes -past, that his niece had emerged from the back premises, and that she -was regarding William and the picture with frank curiosity. - -“Well, niece,” said the old man sharply. “What do you want now?” - -“Is the cold mutton in the larder for dinner, Uncle Si?” said June -with a slight but becoming blush at being called upon to speak in the -presence of such a very nice looking young man. - -“What else do you think we are going to have? Truffles in aspic or -patty de four grass?” - -“No, Uncle Si,” said June gravely. - -“Very well then,” growled S. Gedge Antiques. - - - - -IV - - -IT was not until the evening, after tea, when S. Gedge Antiques -had gone by bus to Clerkenwell in order to buy a Queen Anne sofa -from a dealer in difficulties that William and June really became -known to one another. Before then, however, their respective -presences had already charged the atmosphere of No. 46 New Cross -Street with a rare and subtle quality. - -William, even at a first glance, had been intrigued more than a little -by the appearance of the niece. To begin with she was a great contrast -to Mrs. Runciman. She looked as clean and bright as a new pin, she had -beautiful teeth, her hair was of the kind that artists want to paint -and her way of doing it was cunning. Moreover, she was as straight as a -willow, her movements had charm and grace, and her eyes were grey. And -beyond all else her smile was full of friendship. - -As for June, her first thought had been, when she had unexpectedly -come upon William holding up to the light the picture he had bought at -Crowdham Market, that the young man had an air at once very gentle and -very nice. And in the first talk they had together in the course of -that evening, during the providential absence of Uncle Si, this view of -William was fully confirmed. - -He was very gentle and he was very nice. - -The conversation began shortly after seven o’clock when William had put -up the shutters and locked the door of the shop. It was he who opened -the ball. - -“You’ve come to stay, Miss Gedge, haven’t you?” - -“Yes,” said June, “if I can make myself useful to Uncle Si.” - -“But aren’t you adopted? The master said a fortnight ago he was going -to adopt you.” - -“Uncle Si says I’m half and half at present,” said June demurely. “I’m -a month on trial. If I suit his ways he says I can stay, but if I don’t -I must get after a job.” - -“I hope you will stay,” said William with obvious sincerity. - -There was enough Woman in the heart of the niece of S. Gedge Antiques -to cause her to smile to herself. This was a perfect Simple Simon of a -fellow, yet she could not deny that there was something about him which -gave her quite a thrill. - -“Why do you hope so?” asked Woman, with seeming innocence. - -“I don’t know why I do, unless it is that you are so perfectly nice to -talk to.” And the Simpleton grew suddenly red at his own immoderation. - -Woman in her cardinal aspect might have said “Really” in a tone of ice; -she might even have been tempted to ridicule such a statement made by -such a young man; but Woman in the shrewdly perceptive person of June -was now aware that this air of quaint sincerity was a thing with which -no girl truly wise would dare to trifle. William was William and must -be treated accordingly. - -“Aren’t you very clever?” - -She knew he was clever, but for a reason she couldn’t divine she was -anxious to let him know that she knew it. - -“I don’t think I am at all.” - -“But you are,” said June. “You must be very clever indeed to go about -the country buying rare things cheap for Uncle Si to sell.” - -“Oh, anybody can pick up a few odds and ends now and again if one has -been given the money to buy them.” - -“Anybody couldn’t. I couldn’t for one.” - -“Isn’t that because you’ve not been brought up to the business?” - -“It’s more than that,” said June shrewdly. “You must have a special -gift for picking up things of value.” - -“I may have,” the young man modestly allowed. “The master trusts me as -a rule to tell whether a thing is genuine.” - -June pinned him with her eyes. “Then tell me this.” Her suddenness took -him completely by surprise. “Is _he_ genuine?” - -“Who? The master!” - -“Yes--Uncle Si.” - -The answer came without an instant’s hesitation. “Yes, Miss June, he -is. The master is a genuine piece.” - -“I am very glad to hear it,” said June with a slight frown. - -“Yes, the master is genuine.” Depth and conviction were in the young -man’s tone. “In fact,” he added slowly, “you might say he is a museum -piece.” - -At this solemnity June smiled. - -“He’s a very good man.” A warmth of affection fused the simple words. -“Why he took me from down there as you might say.” William pointed to -the ground. “And now I’m his assistant.” - -“At how much a week,” said the practical June, “if the question isn’t -rude?” - -“I get fifteen shillings.” - -“A week?” - -“Yes. And board and lodging.” - -She looked the young man steadily in the eyes. “You are worth more.” - -“If the master thinks I’m worth more, he’ll give it to me.” - -June pursed her lips and shook a dubious head. Evidently she was not -convinced. - -“Oh, yes, I’m sure he will. In fact, he’s promised to raise my wages -half a crown from the first of the new year.” - -“I should just think so!” said June looking him still in the eyes. - -“Of course I always get everything found.” - -“What about your clothes?” - -With an air of apology he had to own that clothes were not included; -yet to offset this reluctant admission he laid stress on the fact that -his master had taught him all that he knew. - -June could not resist a frown. Nice as he was, she would not have -minded shaking him a little. No Simon had a right to be quite so simple -as this one. - -A pause followed. And then the young man suddenly said: “Miss June -would you care to see something I bought the other day at Crowdham -Market?” - -“I’d love to,” said the gracious Miss June. She had seen ‘the -something’ already but just now she was by no means averse from having -another look at it. - -“Perhaps you wouldn’t mind coming up to the studio.” William laughed -shyly. “I call it that, although of course it isn’t a studio really. -And I only call it that to myself you know,” he added naïvely. - -“Then why did you call it ‘the studio’ to me?” archly demanded Woman in -the person of the niece of S. Gedge Antiques. - -“I don’t know why, I’m sure. It was silly.” - -“No, it wasn’t,” said Woman. “Rather nice of you, I think.” - -The simpleton flushed to the roots of his thick and waving chestnut -hair which was brushed back from a high forehead in a most becoming -manner; and then with rare presence of mind, in order to give his -confusion a chance, he showed the way up the two flights of stairs -which led direct to June’s attic. Next to it, with only a thin wall -dividing them, was a kind of extension of her own private cubicle, -a fairly large and well lit room, which its occupant had immodestly -called “a studio.” A bed, a washing stand, and a chest of drawers were -tucked away in a far corner, as if they didn’t belong. - -“The master lets me have this all to myself for the sake of the light,” -said the young man in a happy voice as he threw open the door. “One -needs a good light to work by.” - -With the air of a Leonardo receiving a lady of the Colonnas he ushered -her in. - -A feminine eye embraced all at a glance. The walls of bare whitewash -bathed in the glories of an autumn sunset, the clean skylight, the two -easels with rather dilapidated objects upon them, a litter of tools and -canvases and frames, a pervading odour of turpentine, and a look of -rapture upon the young man’s face. - -“But it _is_ a studio,” said June. Somehow she felt greatly -impressed by it. “I’ve never seen one before, but it’s just like what -one reads about in books.” - -“Oh, no, a studio is where pictures are painted. Here they are only -cleaned and restored.” - -“One day perhaps you’ll paint them.” - -“Perhaps I will; I don’t know.” He sighed a little, too shy to confess -his dream. “But that day’s a long way off.” - -“It mayn’t be, you know.” - -He had begun already to try, but as yet it was a secret from the world. -“_Ars est celare artem_,” he said. - -“What do you mean by that?” - -“Life is short, art eternal. It is the motto of the old man who teaches -me how to clean and renovate these things. He says it keeps him up to -his work.” - -“You go to an art school?” - -“I should hardly call it that. But the master wants me to learn as much -as I can of the practical side of the trade, so he’s having me taught. -And the more I can pick up about pictures, the better it will be for -the business. You see, the master doesn’t pretend to know much about -pictures himself. His line is furniture.” - -“Didn’t I say you were clever?” June could not help feeling a little -proud of her own perception. - -“You wouldn’t say that”--the young man’s tone was sad--“if you really -knew how little I know. But allow me to show you what I bought at -Crowdham Market. There it is.” He pointed to the old picture on the -smaller easel, which now divorced from its frame seemed to June a mere -daub, black, dilapidated, old and worthless. - -She could not conceal her disappointment. “I don’t call that anything.” - -“No!” He could not conceal his disappointment either. “Take this -glass.” A microscope was handed to her. “Please look at it ve-ry ve-ry -closely while I hold it for you in the light.” - -June gave the canvas a most rigorous scrutiny, but she had to own at -last that the only thing she could see was dirt. - -“Can’t you see water?” - -“Where?” - -With his finger nail the young man found water. - -“No,” said June stoutly. “I don’t see a single drop. And that’s a pity, -because in my opinion, it would be none the worse for a good wash.” - -This was a facer but he met it valiantly. - -“Don’t you see trees?” - -“Where are the trees?” - -The young man disclosed trees with his finger nail. - -“I can’t see a twig.” - -“But you can see a cloud.” With his finger nail he traced a cloud. - -“I only see dirt and smudge,” said June the downright. “To my mind this -isn’t a picture at all.” - -“Surely, you can see a windmill?” - -“A windmill! Why there’s not a sign of one.” - -“Wait till it’s really clean,” said William with the optimism of -genius. He took up a knife and began delicately to scrape that dark -surface from which already he had half removed a top layer of paint -that some inferior artist had placed there. - -June shook her head. There was a lovely fall in the young man’s voice -but it would take more than that to convince her. She believed her -eyes to be as good as most people’s, but even with a microscope and -William’s finger to help them they could see never a sign of a cloud or -so much as a hint of water. As for a tree!... and a windmill!... either -this handsome young man ... he really was handsome ... had a sense that -ordinary people had not ... or ... or...! - - - - -V - - -JUNE suddenly remembered that she must go and lay the supper. - -William modestly asked to be allowed to help. - -“Can you lay supper?” Polite the tone, but June was inclined to think -that here was the limit to William’s cleverness. - -“Oh, yes, Miss June, I lay it nearly always. It’s part of my work.” - -“Glad of your help, of course.” The tone was gracious. “But I daresay -you’d like to go on looking for a windmill.” - -“Yes, I think perhaps I would.” It was not quite the answer of -diplomacy, but behind it was a weight of sincerity that took away the -sting. - -“Thought so,” said June, with a dark smile. It would have been pleasant -to have had the help of this accomplished young man, but above all -things she was practical and so understood that the time of such a one -must be of great value. - -“But I’m thinking you’ll have to look some while for that windmill,” -she said, trying not to be satirical. - -“The windmill I’ll not swear to, but I’m sure there’s water and trees; -although, of course, it may take some time to find them.” William took -up a piece of cotton wool. “But we’ll see.” - -He moistened the wool with a solvent, which he kept in a bottle, a -mysterious compound of vegetable oils and mineral water; and then, not -too hard, he began to rub the surface of the picture. - -“I hope we shall,” said June, doubtfully. And she went downstairs with -an air of scepticism she was unable to hide. - -Supper, in the main, was an affair of bread and cheese and a jug of -beer, drawn from the barrel in the larder. It was not taken until a -quarter past nine when S. Gedge Antiques had returned from Clerkenwell. -The old man was in quite a good humour; in fact, it might be said, to -verge upon the expansive. He had managed to buy the Queen Anne sofa for -four pounds. - -“You’ve got a bargain, sir,” said William. It was William who had -discovered the sofa, and had strongly advised its purchase. - -“That remains to be seen,” said his master, who would have been vastly -disappointed had there been reason to think that he had not got a -bargain. - -After supper, when the old man had put on his slippers and an ancient -smoking cap that made him look like a Turkish pasha, he took from the -chimneypiece a pipe and a jar of tobacco, drew the easy chair to the -fire, and began to read the evening paper. - -“By the way, boy,” he remarked, quizzingly, “have you started yet on -that marvellous thing you were clever enough to buy at Ipswich?” - -“Crowdham Market, sir.” - -“Crowdham Market, was it? Well, my father used to say that fools and -money soon part company.” - -June, who was clearing the table, could not forbear from darting at -the young man a gleam of triumph. It was clear that Uncle Si believed -no more in the windmill, not to mention the trees and the water than -did she. - -A start had been made, but William confessed to a fear that it might be -a long job to get it clean. - -“And when you get it clean,” said his master, “what do you expect to -find, eh?--that’s if you’re lucky enough to find anything.” - -“I don’t quite know,” said William frankly. - -“Neither do I,” S. Gedge Antiques scratched a cheek of rather humorous -cynicism. And then in sheer expansion of mood, he went to the length of -winking at his niece. “Perhaps, boy,” he said, “you’ll find that Van -Roon that was cut out of its frame at the Louvre in the Nineties, and -has never been seen or heard of since.” - -“Was there one, sir?” asked William, interested and alert. - -The old man took up the evening paper, and began to read. “Canvas -sixteen inches by twelve--just about your size, eh? One of the world’s -masterpieces. Large reward for recovery been on offer for more than -twenty-five years by French Government--but not claimed yet seemingly. -Said to be finest Van Roon in existence. Now’s your chance, boy.” A -second time S. Gedge Antiques winked at his niece; and then folding -back the page of the _Evening News_, he handed it to William, -with the air of a very sly dog indeed. “See for yourself. Special -article. Mystery of Famous Missing Picture. When you find the signature -of Mynheer Van Roon in the corner of this masterpiece of yours, I -shouldn’t wonder if you’re able to set up in business for yourself.” - -Allowing Fancy a loose rein in this benign hour, the old man, for the -third time honoured his niece with a solemn wink. - - - - -VI - - -THE next morning saw the beginning of a chain of epoch-making -events in the history of S. Gedge Antiques. - -Shortly before eight o’clock Mrs. Runciman turned up as usual after her -day off. With a most businesslike promptitude, however, she was given -her quietus. In dispensing with her services, from now on, Uncle Si -took a real pleasure in what he called “telling her off.” Many times -had he warned her that she would play the trick once too often. And -now that his prophecy had come true, he was able to say just what he -thought of her, of her ancestry, and of her sex in general. She would -greatly oblige him by not letting him see her face again. - -Mrs. Runciman, for her part, professed a cheerful willingness to take -her late employer at his word. There was plenty of work to be had; and -she departed on a note of dignity which she sustained by informing him -in a voice loud enough for the neighbours to hear that “he was a miser, -and a screw, and that he would skin a flea for its feathers.” - -On the top of this ukase to the char, the old man held a short private -conversation with his niece. June had begun very well; and if she -continued to behave herself, got up in the morning without being -called, was not afraid of hard work, and had the breakfast ready by a -quarter to eight she would receive, in addition to board and lodging, -two shillings a week pocket money, and perhaps a small present at -Christmas. - -As far as it went this was very well. “But,” said June, “there’s my -clothes, Uncle Si.” - -“Clothes!” The old man scratched his cheek. “You’ve money of your own, -haven’t you?” - -“Only twenty pounds.” - -“We’ll think about clothes when the time comes to buy some.” - -S. Gedge, however, admitted to William privately that he had hopes of -the niece. “But let me tell you this, boy: it’s asking for trouble to -have a young female sleeping in the house. Old ones are bad enough, -even when they sleep out; young ones sleeping in may be the very -mischief.” - -In fact, the old man deemed it wise to reinforce these observations -with a solemn warning. “Understand, boy, there must be no carrying on -between you and her.” - -“Carrying on, sir!” Such innocence might have touched the heart of King -Herod. - -“That’s what I said. I can trust you; in some ways you hardly know -you’re born; but with a woman, and a young one at that, it’s another -pair o’ shoes. Women are simply the devil.” - -William’s blank face showed a fleck of scarlet; yet the true inwardness -of these Menander-like words were lost upon him; and he was rebuked for -being a perfect fool in things that mattered. However, the arrangement -was merely temporary. If the girl behaved herself, well and good; if -she didn’t behave herself, niece or no niece, she would have to go. -But--touching wood!--there was nothing to complain of so far. - -William quite agreed, yet he dare not say as much to his master. In -his opinion, there was no ground for comparison between the dethroned -goddess of whom he had always been a little in awe, and the creature of -grace and charm, of fine perception and feminine amenity who slept the -other side the “studio” wall. For all that, in the sight of this young -man, one aspect of the case was now a matter of concern. - -“Miss June,” he said on the evening of the second day, “do you mind if -I get up early to-morrow and do a few odd jobs about the house?” - -“What sort of jobs?” Miss June’s air of suspicion was tinged with -sternness. Now that she reigned in Mrs. Runciman’s stead she could not -help feeling rather important. - -“If you’ll show me where the brushes are kept, I’ll blacklead the -kitchen grate.” - -“Please don’t come interfering.” In June’s manner was a touch of -hauteur. - -Beneath the tan of East Anglia, the young man coloured. “But you’ll -spoil your hands,” he ventured. - -“My hands are no affair of yours,” said June, a little touched, and -trying not to show it. - -“Let me take over the kitchen grate for the future. And if you don’t -mind, I’ll scrub the shop floor.” - -“Is there anything else you’d like to do?” said June, with amused scorn. - -“I’d like to do all the really rough jobs if I may.” - -“For why?” - -The Sawney had given his reason already, and, in spite of a growing -embarrassment, he stuck to his guns. - -Said June sternly: “You mustn’t come interfering.” Yet the light in -her eyes was not anger. “You’ve got your department and I’ve got mine. -Windmills are your department. Blackleading kitchen grates and cleaning -floors won’t help you to find windmills. Besides, you have the shop to -look after, and you have to go out and find things for Uncle Si, and -study art, and talk to customers, and goodness knows what you haven’t -got to do.” - -“Well, if you don’t mind,” said William tenaciously, “I’ll get in the -coal, anyway.” - -June shook her head. “No interference,” was her last word. - -Nevertheless, the following morning saw a division of labour within -the precincts of No. 46, New Cross Street. When June came downstairs -at a quarter to seven, she found a young man on his knees vigorously -polishing the kitchen grate. He was sans coat, waistcoat and collar; -there was a smudge on the side of his nose, and as the temper of a lady -is apt to be short at so early an hour, it was no wonder that he was -rebuked crushingly. - -“Didn’t I say I wouldn’t have interference? I don’t come into your -studio and look for windmills, do I?” - -William, still on his knees, had penitently to own that she didn’t. - -“It’s--it’s a great liberty,” said June, hotly. - -He looked up at her with an air to disarm the Furies. “Oh--please--no!” - -“What is it then?” Secretly she was annoyed with herself for not being -as much annoyed as the case demanded. “What is it then? Coming into my -kitchen with your interference.” - -“I’m ever so sorry, but----” - -“But what?” - -“I simply can’t bear to think of your spoiling your beautiful hands.” - -June’s eyes were fire; her cheek flamed like a peony. “Go and look for -your beautiful windmills, and leave my hands alone.” - -But the owner of the beautiful hands was now fettered by the knowledge -that she was beginning to blush horribly. - - - - -VII - - -IN the evening of the next day, about half an hour before -supper, June climbed the attic stairs and knocked boldly upon the -studio door. - -“Come in,” a gentle voice invited her. - -William, a lump of cotton wool in one hand, the mysterious bottle in -the other, was absorbed in the task of looking for a windmill. He had -to own, the queer fellow, that so far success had not crowned his -search. - -“I should think not,” said June, uncompromisingly. - -“But there are the trees.” William took up a knife and laid the point -to a canvas that was already several tones lighter than of yore. - -There was a pause while June screwed up her eyes like an expert; and in -consequence she had reluctantly to admit that they were unmistakable -trees. - -“And now we are coming to the water, don’t you see?” said the young man -in a tone of quiet ecstasy. - -“Where’s the water?” - -With a lover’s delicacy, William ran the point of the knife along the -canvas. - -“Don’t you see it, Miss June?” There was a thrill in the low voice. - -“Why, yes,” said June. “It’s water, right enough.” No use trying now -not to be impressed. “Now I call that rather clever!” - -“I knew it was there. And if you know a thing’s there, sooner or later -you are bound to find it. Do you know what my opinion is?” Of a -sudden, the exalted voice sank mysteriously. - -June had no idea what William’s opinion was, but she was quite willing -to hear it, whatever it might be, for he had just had a considerable -rise in her estimation. - -“It wouldn’t surprise me at all if this turns out to be a----” He broke -off with a perplexing smile. - -“Turns out to be a what?” - -“Perhaps I’d better not say.” The words, in their caution and their -gravity intrigued a shrewd daughter of the midlands. June, in spite of -herself, was beginning to respect this odd young man. - -“You think it might be something very good?” - -“It might be something almost _too_ good.” William’s tone had -a deep vibration. “If it keeps on coming out like this, it’ll be -wonderful. Do you see that cloud?” - -June peered hard, but she could not see a suspicion of a cloud. - -“Take the microscope.” - -Even with the microscope no cloud was visible to June. - -“I’m as sure of it as I ever was of anything,” said William. “There’s -a cloud--oh, yes!” The note of faith was music. “And there’s a -sky--oh, yes!” A stray beam of the September sunset made an effect so -remarkable, as it slanted across the upturned eyes, that June paid them -rather more attention at the moment than she gave to the canvas. - -“Has Uncle Si seen those trees?” she asked suddenly. - -“Yes, the master came up to look at them a few minutes ago.” - -“What did he say?” - -“He just scratched his cheek and changed his spectacles.” - -“Did you tell him what you’ve just told me?” - -The young man nodded. - -“Did Uncle Si believe you?” - -“He said he’d wait till he saw it.” - -“Well, he can’t deny the trees, anyway.” - -“No, he can’t deny the trees. But, of course the real picture is only -just beginning to come out, as you might say. All the same, he’s made -me an offer for it, even as it stands.” - -With a swift, sudden intuition, June cried: “I hope you haven’t taken -it!” - -“As a matter of fact, I haven’t,” said William, casually. “I feel I’d -like to keep the picture until I find out what it really is.” - -“Well, mind you do. And, if the question isn’t a rude one, what did -Uncle Si offer?” - -“Seven and sixpence. But that’s for the frame mainly.” - -June grew magisterial. “You mustn’t think of parting with it.” - -With an innocence hard to credit in one so clever, William asked why. - -“Why!” June almost snorted. “Because if Uncle Si offers you seven and -sixpence for a thing which he knows you bought for five shillings, you -can be sure that he considers it may be valuable.” - -“The master has always been very good to me,” said the young man with -extreme simplicity. - -At these words June felt a stab of pain, so great was the contrast -between the two men. One saw the wares in which they dealt only in -terms of beauty, the other in terms of money. - -“You are too modest. And, although you are so clever, if you don’t mind -my saying so, you are also rather foolish in some ways--at least that’s -my opinion.” - -William frankly admitted the impeachment. - -“Well, now,” said June, a cool and steady eye upon him, “suppose you -tell me where you think your foolishness lies?” - -“Why, I was foolish enough to think that patch”--the Simpleton pressed -the finger of an artist upon the patch--“was really and truly a -windmill. But, of course, it’s nothing of the kind.” - -“I’m not speaking of windmills now,” said June severely. “I’m speaking -of things much more important.” - -“Oh, but a windmill can be very important. Have you ever really seen a -windmill?” - -“Yes, of course, I have.” - -The Sawney asked where. - -June had seen a windmill in Lincolnshire. - -“Lincolnshire! Oh, but you should see the one in the National Gallery.” - -“The one in the where?” said June, with a frown. - -Of a sudden his voice took its delicious fall. The rare smile, which -lit his face, was for June an enchantment: “It’s a Hobbema.” - -“A what!--emma!” - -“A Hobbema. On Saturdays the shop closes at one, so that I could take -you to see it, if you’d care to. I should like you so much to see -it--that’s if it interests you at all. It will give you an idea of -what a windmill can be.” - -“But I meant a real windmill. I’m only interested in real things, -anyway.” - -“A Hobbema is better than real.” - -“Better than real,” said June, opening wide eyes. - -“When you see it, you’ll understand what I mean. I do hope you’ll come -and look at it.” - -June was such a practical person that her first instinct was to refuse -to do anything of the kind. But that instinct was overborne by the -complexity of her feelings. In some ways he was the simplest Simon -of them all; a longing to shake him was growing upon her, but the -disconcerting fact remained that after a fashion he was decidedly -clever. And leaving his mental qualities out of the case, when you got -his face at an angle and you caught the light in his eyes, he was by -far the handsomest young man she had ever seen. Therefore her promise -was reluctantly given that on Saturday afternoon she would go with him -to the National Gallery to see what a windmill was really like. - - - - -VIII - - -JUNE’S promise was made on the evening of Monday. Before it -could be fulfilled, however, much had to happen. Saturday itself was -put out of the case by the departure of William early that morning to -attend a sale in Essex, where several things might be going cheap. And -on the following Thursday he had to go to Tunbridge Wells. During his -absence on that day, moreover, June’s interest in the picture he had -bought at Crowdham Market was roused suddenly to a very high pitch. - -Even before this significant event occurred, her mind had been full of -this much-discussed purchase. Day by day William wrought upon it with -growing enthusiasm. There was now no more doubt in regard to the clouds -and the sky than there was as to the trees and the water. S. Gedge -Antiques had been up to the attic several times to see for himself, -and although in his opinion, the best that could be said for the -picture was that it might turn out to be a copy of a fair example of -the Dutch School, he went to the length of doubling his offer of seven -and sixpence. In other words, which he issued with point at the supper -table on the evening prior to William’s trip to Tunbridge Wells, there -was “a full week’s extra wages sticking out,” if only the young man -cared to take it in exchange for a dubious work of little or no value. - -William needed, among other things, a new pair of boots; he was short -of the materials of his craft, and the sum of fifteen shillings meant -a great deal to him at any time, facts with which his employer was -well acquainted. The temptation was great. While the offer was under -consideration, June held her breath. She had a frantic desire to signal -across the table to William not to part with his treasure. Much to her -relief, however, the young man resisted the lure. His master told him -roundly that only a fool would refuse such an offer. William allowed -that it was princely, but he had quite an affection for the picture -now, besides, much had to be done to get it really clean. - -At present, moreover, he had not even begun to look for the signature. - -“Signature!” S. Gedge Antiques took up the word sarcastically. And -there were times, as June knew already, when the old man could be -terribly sarcastic. “You’ll be looking, I suppose, for the signature of -Hobbema. Seems to me, boy, you’re cracked on that subject.” - -“I don’t think, sir,” said William, in his gentle voice, “that this -picture is a Hobbema.” - -“Don’t you indeed?” To conceal a rising impatience Uncle Si made a face -at his niece. “You’re cracked, my boy.” He gave his own forehead a -symbolical tap. “Why waste your time looking for a signature to a thing -you bought for five shillings at an old serendipity shop at Crowdham -Market! You’d far better turn over a snug little profit of two hundred -per cent and forget all about it.” - -The next day, however, when William set out for Tunbridge Wells, he was -still the owner of the picture. And in the light of what was to follow -it was a fact of considerable importance. - -In the course of that morning, while June was helping Uncle Si to dress -the front window, there sauntered into the shop a funny, oldish, foxy -little man, who wore a brown billycock hat at the back of his head, and -had a pair of legs as crooked as a Louis Quinze chair. She set him down -at once as a character out of Dickens. - -“Mornin’ to you, Mr. Gedge,” said this quaint visitor. - -“Mornin’ to you, Mr. Thornton!” said S. Gedge Antiques returning the -salutation with deference. - -June cocked her ears. The note in Uncle Si’s rasping voice, which -always seemed to need a file, told her at once that the visitor was no -common man. - -As a preliminary to business, whatever that business might be, Mr. -Thornton fixed an eye like a small bright bead on the Hoodoo, whose -sinister bulk seemed to dominate half the shop. It was fixed, moreover, -with an air of whimsical appreciation as he murmured: “The British -Museum is the place for that.” - -“There I’m with you, Mr. Thornton.” S. Gedge Antiques looked his -visitor steadily in the eye. “Wonderful example of early Polynesian -craftsmanship.” - -“Early Polynesian craftsmanship.” The little man stroked the belly of -the Hoodoo with a kind of rapt delicacy which other men reserve for the -fetlock of a horse. - -“Only one of its kind.” - -“I should say so,” murmured Louis Quinze-legs, screwing up his eyes; -and then, by way of after-thought: “I’ve just dropped in, Mr. Gedge, to -have a look at that picture you mentioned to me yesterday.” - -“Oh, _that_, Mr. Thornton.” The voice of S. Gedge Antiques -suggested that the matter was of such little consequence that it had -almost passed from his mind. “S’pose I’d better get it for you.” And -then with an odd burst of agility, which in one of his years was quite -surprising, the old man left the shop, while June, her heart beating -high, went on dressing the window. - -In three minutes or less, William’s picture appeared under the arm of -William’s master. “Here you are, Mr. Thornton!” The voice was oil. - -June made herself small between a Chinese cabinet and a tallboys in the -window’s deepest gorge. From this point of vantage, the privilege of -seeing and hearing all that passed in the shop was still hers. - -Foxy Face received the picture in silence from Uncle Si, held it to his -eyes, pursed his lips, took a glass from his pocket, and examined it -minutely back and front, turning it over and tapping it several times -in the process. The slow care he gave to this ritual began to get on -June’s nerves. - -“There’s good work in it,” said Louis Quinze-legs, at last. - -“Good work in it!” said S. Gedge Antiques in what June called his -“selling” voice. “I should just think there was.” - -“But there’s one thing it lacks.” The little man, looking more than -ever like a fox, chose each word with delicacy. “It’s a pity--a very -great pity--there’s no signature.” - -“Signature!” The old man’s tone had lost the drawling sneer of the -previous evening. “Tell me, Mr. Thornton,----” He must have forgotten -that June was so near--“if we happened to come upon the signature -of Hobbema down there in that left hand corner--in that black -splotch--what do you suppose it might be worth?” - -Mr. Thornton did not answer the question at once. And when answer he -did, his voice was so low that June could hardly hear it. “I wouldn’t -like to say offhand, Mr. Gedge. Mosby sent a Hobbema to New York last -year, but what he got for it I don’t know.” - -“I heard twenty-eight thousand dollars.” - -“So did I, but I doubt it. Still, the Americans are paying big money -just now. Did you see that thing of Mosby’s, by the way?” - -“Yes; it was a bit larger than this chap, but it hadn’t the work in it.” - -“Well, get it a bit cleaner; and then, if you can show me Hobbema’s -signature with the date, about the place where I’ve got my finger, I -dare say we can come to business, Mr. Gedge.” - -“I quite expect we’ll be able to do that,” said the old man with an air -of robust optimism which surprised June considerably. - -Foxy Face ventured to hope that such might be the case, whereupon the -voice of Uncle Si fell to a pitch which his niece had to strain a keen -ear to catch. - -“Suppose, Mr. Thornton, we omit the question of the signature? Do you -feel inclined to make an offer for the picture as it stands?” - -The pause which followed was long and tense, and then June was just -able to hear the cautious voice of Foxy Face. “Possibly, Mr. Gedge--I -dare say I might. But before I could think of doing that, I should like -a friend of mine to vet it. He’s wise in these things, and knows what -can be done with them.” - -“Right you are, Mr. Thornton,” said S. Gedge Antiques brisk and -businesslike. “If you can tell me when your friend is likely to call, -I’ll be here to meet him.” - -“Shall we say to-morrow morning at ten?” - -“Very well, Mr. Gedge. And if my friend can’t come, I’ll telephone.” - -Foxy Face was bowed out of the shop with a politeness that fairly -astonished June. She could hardly believe that this mirror of courtesy -was Uncle Si. In fact, it was as if the old man had had a change of -heart. With the light step of a boy, he took back the picture to the -attic, while June, thinking hard, retired to the back premises to cook -two middling-sized potatoes for dinner. - - - - -IX - - -IT was not until the evening that William returned from Tunbridge -Wells. He had been to look at a picture which his master had seen -already, but S. Gedge Antiques was wise enough to recognise that -his assistant had an instinct for pictures far beyond his own. In the -matter of bric-à-brac he would always trust his own judgment, but when -it came to an oil painting he was very glad to have it fortified by the -special and peculiar knowledge that William had now acquired. There was -no doubt that in this sphere, which for his master was comparatively -new and full of pitfalls, the young man had a remarkable gift. It was a -gift, moreover, of which he had yet to learn the true value. - -In “summer-time” September the days are long; and as supper was not -until nine o’clock, there was light enough for William, on getting -home, to spend a rare hour in the studio, delving for further beauties -in that derelict canvas which already had far exceeded his hopes. - -“I know where you are going,” whispered June, in the young man’s ear as -he left the little sitting-room behind the shop, where sat Uncle Si, -spectacles on nose, poring over the pages of Crowe and Cavalcaselle. - -The young man glowed at this friendly interest on the part of Miss -June; in fact, he was touched by it. She was the master’s niece; -therefore she was on a plane of being superior to his own. And he had -learned already that those who are above you in the world, are apt to -turn their advantage to your detriment; but Miss June, for all that -she was the master’s niece and had been one term at the Blackhampton -High School, and was therefore a person of social weight, had been -careful so far not to assert her status. And so his heart was open -to her; besides this present keen interest in his labours was most -encouraging. - -“I’m coming up to look at it again, if I may,” whispered June, as she -followed him out of the room. - -“Please, please do,” he said, delightedly. - -As she climbed the steep stairs, William in the seventh heaven, -followed close upon her heels. What a pleasure to expound the merits -of such a work to one so sympathetic! As for June, her quick mind was -at work. Even before the coming of Foxy Face she had guessed, or some -instinct had told her, that this picture was no ordinary one, and now -that she had overheard that gentleman’s recent talk with Uncle Si she -had been given furiously to think. To understand all its implications -needed far more knowledge of a deep, not to say “tricky,” subject than -she possessed, but one fact was clear: her opinion as to the picture’s -value was fully confirmed. Here was a treasure whose real worth even -William himself might not be able to guess. - -Now was the moment, June shrewdly saw, for prompt and decisive action. -Uncle Si had set his heart upon this rare thing; but if flesh and blood -was equal to the task, she must take immediate steps to baulk him. -Alas, she knew only too well that it was likely to prove an immensely -difficult matter. - -June stood in front of the easel, and set her head to one side quite in -the manner of an expert. - -“It seems to grow finer and finer,” she said, in a soft voice. - -“Yes, it does,” said William, touching it here and there with loverly -fingers. “If I can but manage to get the top off without hurting the -fabric, I’m sure it’ll be a non-such.” - -June fervently said that she hoped it would be. - -“There’s the cloud I spoke to you about the other day.” - -“Why, yes,” said June, screwing up her eyes, in unconscious imitation -of Foxy Face. “I see it now. And it’s very beautiful indeed.” - -“And the touch of sunlight in it. I hope you notice that!” As William -spoke, it almost seemed to June that she could see the reflection of -the sunlight in the eyes of this enthusiast. - -“Yes, I do,” said June stoutly. - -“A real painter has done that!” The young man’s voice took that dying -fall she had learnt already to listen for. “This is a lovely thing, -Miss June!” Pure cadence touched her heart with fire. “Do you know, I -am beginning to think this little picture is the most perfect thing I -have ever seen?” - -“Very valuable, I dare say,” said June, bringing him to earth. - -“I only know it’s good.” - -“But surely if it’s good it’s valuable? What do you think it might be -worth?” - -“Miss June,”--the queer little tremble in his voice sounded -divine--“don’t let us think of it as money.” - -But at those hushed words, at the far-off look in the deep eyes, she -felt once more a touch of pain. - -“Uncle Si would call that sentiment. He believes that money is the -most important thing there is; he believes it is the only thing that -matters.” - -She meant it as a facer for this Sawney, who had declared to her that -Uncle Si could neither think wrong nor ensue it. A hit, shrewd and -fair, but the Sawney was still in business. - -“In a manner of speaking, it may be so. But I am sure the master will -tell you there are things money can’t buy.” - -“What are they?” June’s frown was the fiercer for the effort to repress -it. - -“Take this glint of sun striking through that wonderful cloud. All the -money in the world couldn’t buy that.” - -“Of course it could. And I don’t suppose it would take much to buy it -either.” - -He solemnly dissented. She asked why not. - -“Because,” said he, “that bit of sunlight only exists in the eye that -sees it.” - -“That’s sentiment,” said June severely. “You might say the same of -anything.” - -“You might, of course. Nothing is, but thinking makes it so.” - -Again June heard the queer little tremble in his voice, again she saw -that strange look steal across his face. - -“What you say sounds very deep, but if you talk in that way I’m quite -sure you’ll never get on in the world.” - -“I’ll be quite happy to live as I am, if only I’m allowed to see the -wonderful things that are in it.” - -June had a fierce desire to shake him, but he beamed upon her, and she -became a lamb. - -“On Saturday,” he said, “when we go to our little treasure house, you -will see what I mean.” - -“If you talk in this way,” said June once more severe, “I shall not -go with you on Saturday to your little treasure house. Or on Sunday -either. Or on any day of the week. If you were a millionaire, you -could afford to be fanciful. Being what you are, and your salary less -than half what it should be, I really think you ought to be ashamed of -yourself.” - -She was a little astonished at her own vehemence. He seemed a little -astonished at it also. - -“Nothing is, but thinking makes it so,” said June, with fine scorn. -“That’s what Mr. Boultby, the druggist at the bottom of our street at -home, would call poppycock. It means you’ll be very lucky if some fine -morning you don’t wake up and find yourself in the workhouse.” - -One smile more he gave her out of his deep eyes. - -“That sort of talk,” said June, with growing fierceness, “is just -_potty_. It won’t find you tools and a place to work in, or three -meals a day, and a bed at night.” - -“But don’t you see what I mean?” - -“No, I don’t. As I say, to my mind it’s potty. But now tell me, what do -you think this picture’s worth if you were buying it for Uncle Si to -sell again?” - -“That is a very difficult question to answer. The master is so clever -at selling things that he might get a big price for it in the market.” - -“Even without the signature?” And June fixed the eye of a hawk on the -young man’s face. - -“I don’t say that. The signature might make a lot of difference to a -dealer. But don’t let us talk of the price. There are things in this -picture that money ought not to buy.” - -An impatient “Poppycock!” all but escaped Mr. Boultby’s disciple. Yet -of a sudden, in a fashion so unexpected as to verge upon drama, her own -voice took that soft quick fall he had taught her the trick of. - -“I can’t tell you how much I love it,” she said, dreamily. “I would -give almost anything if it were mine.” - -William’s limpid glance betrayed that he was only too happy to believe -her. - -“It is quite as beautiful to me as it is to you.” June plunged on, but -she did not dare to look at him. “And I think it would be a terrible -pity if it ever came to be sold by Uncle Si. I simply love it. Suppose -you sell it to me?” - -“To you, Miss June!” - -“Yes--to me.” There was swift decision and the fixing of the will. “I -like it so much that I’ll give you nineteen pounds for it, and that’s -all I have in the world.” - -William was astonished. - -“I hadn’t realised,” he said, in charmed surprise, “that you admire it -so much as all that.” - -“Yes, I do admire it.” Her heart beat fast and high. “And I want it. I -can’t tell you just what that picture means to me. But nineteen pounds -is all I can pay.” - -He shook his head in slow finality. - -She did not try to conceal her disappointment. - -“I couldn’t think of taking a penny of your money,” he said, shyly. -“But as you love it so much, I hope you will allow me to give it you.” - -She gave a little gasp. An act of such pure generosity was rather -staggering. - -“I hope you will, Miss June.” He spoke with a delicious embarrassment. -“Loving it so much really makes it yours. To love a thing is to -possess it. And I shall always have the happiness of feeling that it -has made you happy.” - -She turned away a face glowing with shame. She could never hope to feel -about it in the way that he did, and it seemed almost wicked to deceive -him. But a young man so poor as he could not afford to be so simple; -and she soothed her conscience by telling herself what she was now -doing was for his future good. - -Conscience, however, was not to be put out of action that way. The part -she was playing hurt like a scald on the hand. Both their tongues were -tied by the pause which followed, and then she said in a weak, halting -manner that was not like her: “You must have something in exchange for -it, of course--not that I shall ever be able to offer anything near its -true value.” - -“I ask no more than what you have given me already.” - -“What have I given you?” - -“You have given me the wonderful look I see sometimes in your face, and -the light that springs from your eyes and the glow of your hair. When -you came to this house, you brought something with you that was never -in it before.” - -“How funny you are!” June’s cheek was a flame. But he spoke so -impersonally, delicately weighing each word before a passion of -sincerity gave it birth, that any effective form of rebuke was out of -the question. - -“Miss June,” this amazing fellow went on, speaking for all the world -as if she were a picture whose signature he was looking for, “when -you came here, you brought the sun of beauty. Colour and harmony and -grace, you brought those too. If only I knew how to paint,”--he sighed -gently,--“I could never rest until I had put you on canvas just as you -stand at this moment.” - -It was clear that he had forgotten completely that this was the niece -of his employer. She also forgot that no young man had ventured yet -to speak to her like that. This was William the wonderful who was -addressing her, and his voice was music, his eyes slow fire, his whole -being a golden web of poetry and romance. - -“You oughtn’t to give away such a thing,” she persisted, but with none -of her usual force. “It’s valuable; and I oughtn’t to take it.” The -sound of her voice, she knew only too well, was thin and strange. - -“Please, please take it, Miss June,” he quaintly entreated her. “It -will give me more pleasure to know that you are caring for it, and that -its beauty speaks to you than if I kept it all to myself. I love it, -but you love it, too. If you’ll share the happiness it brings me, then -I shall love it even more.” - -Shadows of the evening were now in the room. His face was half hidden, -and the wildness of her heart scarcely allowed his voice to be heard. -She thought no longer of the worth of the gift, nor was she now -concerned with the propriety of its acceptance. Her mind was in the -grip of other things. Was it to herself he was speaking? Or was he -speaking merely to a fellow worshipper of beauty? To such questions -there could be no answer; she trembled at the daring which gave them -birth. - -His mere presence was a lure. She longed to touch his hand very gently, -and would perhaps have done so, had she not been cruelly aware that -even the hem of her sleeve would defile it. She was cheating him, she -was cheating him outrageously. The only excuse she had was that it was -all for his own good; such, at least, must now be her prayer, her hope, -her faith. - - - - -X - - -THE next morning Foxy Face, true to the appointment he had -made with S. Gedge Antiques, came at ten o’clock with a friend. A -quarter before that hour William had been sent to the King’s Road, -Chelsea, in quest of a Jacobean carving-table for which his master had -a customer. - -June, in anticipation of the event, took care to be busy in a distant -corner of the shop when these gentlemen arrived. As on the occasion -of Louis Quinze-legs’ previous visit, Uncle Si lost no time in going -himself to fetch the picture, but his prompt return was fraught for -June with bitter disappointment. By sheer ill luck, as it seemed, his -stern eye fell on her at the very moment he gave the picture to Mr. -Thornton’s friend, a morose-looking man in a seedy frock coat and a -furry topper. - -“Niece,” sharply called S. Gedge Antiques, “go and do your dusting -somewhere else.” - -There was no help for it. June could almost have shed tears of -vexation, but she had to obey. The most she dared venture in the way -of appeasing a curiosity that had grown terrific was to steal back on -tiptoe a few minutes later, to retrieve a pot of furniture polish she -had been clever enough to leave behind. Like a mouse she crept back for -it, but Uncle Si flashed upon her such a truculent eye that, without -trying to catch a word that was passing, she simply fled. - -Fear seized her. She felt sure that she had seen the last of the -picture. Her distrust of S. Gedge Antiques had become so great that -she was now convinced that money would tempt him to anything. Twenty -miserable minutes she spent wondering what she must do if the picture -was disposed of there and then. She tried to steel her heart against -the fact, now looming inevitable, that she would never see it again. - -At last the visitors left the shop. June then discovered that her fears -had carried her rather too far, and that for the time being, at any -rate, Uncle Si had been done an injustice. - -He shambled slowly into the kitchen and to June’s intense relief the -picture was in his hand. - -“Niece,” he said, threatfully; “understand once for all that I won’t -have you hanging about the shop when I am doing business with important -customers.” - -The sight of the picture was so much more important than the words -which came out of his mouth that June felt inclined to treat them -lightly. - -“I’m telling you,” said the old man fiercely. “Mark what I say. I won’t -have females listening with their mouths open when I’m doing business. -And don’t laugh at me, else you’ll have to pack your box. Here!” Uncle -Si handed her the picture with a scowl. “Take this back to where it -came from; and just remember what’s been said to you, or you’ll find -yourself short of a week’s pocket money.” - -Adjured thus, June was a model of discretion for the rest of that day; -and yet she was the prey of a devouring curiosity. She would have -given much to know what had taken place in the course of the morning’s -traffic with Louis Quinze-legs and his friend. It was not until -supper-time that she was able to gather a clue, when Uncle Si mentioned -the matter to William. He was careful to do so, however, in the most -casual way. - -“By the way, boy,” said the old man gravely balancing a piece of cheese -on the end of his knife, and fixing June with his eye as he did so; -“that daub of yours--I’ve had Mr. Thornton here to look at it.” - -“I hope he liked it, sir,” said William, with his eager smile. - -Uncle Si pursed his mouth. Then he went through the rest of his -performance, which on this occasion ended in a noise through closed -lips like a hornet’s drone, which might have meant anything. - -June felt an insane desire to give the old wretch a punch on his long -and wicked nose. - -“What did he think of the cloud?” asked William. “And the light of the -sun striking through on to the water?” - -“He says it’s very rough and dirty, and in bad condition, but if I -could buy it for two pounds he might be able to show me a small profit.” - -“I should think so,” murmured June, holding a glass of water in -suspense. - -Uncle Si laid down his knife and looked at her. - -“You _think_ so, niece,” he snarled. “Have the goodness to mind -your own affairs, or you and I will quarrel. That’s twice to-day I’ve -had to speak to you.” - -June covered a retreat from the impossible position strong feelings had -led her into by emptying her glass in one fierce draught. - -“You see, boy,” said Uncle Si, turning to William with a confidential -air, “this--this _picture_.”--It seemed a great concession on -his part to allow that the thing was a picture at all--“is without a -signature. That makes it almost valueless.” - -William smiled and gently shook his head. - -“Beg your pardon, sir, but it is signed in every line.” - -“Rubbish. No theorising--this is a business proposition. And I tell you -that without the signature, this bit of pretty-pretty just amounts to -nix.” The old man gave his fingers a contemptuous snap. “That’s what -it amounts to. But as you’ve taken the trouble to bring it all the way -from Suffolk and you’ve spent a certain amount of your master’s time -in trying to get it clean, as I say, I’ll spring a couple of pounds to -encourage you. But why I should I really don’t know.” - -June was hard-set to refrain from breaking the peace which followed, -with the laugh of derision. Happily, by a triumph of will power, she -bridled her tongue and kept her eyes modestly upon her plate. - -“Now, boy!” Uncle Si made a series of conjuror’s passes with his -spectacles. “Two pounds! Take it or leave it! What do you say?” - -William did not say anything, yet one of his shy smiles was winged to -June across the table. She promptly sent back a scowl quite feral in -its truculence, which yet was softened by a world of eloquence and -humour behind it. There was no other way of intimating that Uncle Si -must not learn too soon that the picture was now hers. - -William, no fool, if he chose to use his wits, was able to interpret -this wireless. Thus he began to temporise; and he did so in a way -delightfully his own. - -“What difference, sir, do you think the signature would make to our -little masterpiece?” - -The old man gave his assistant a look almost superhuman in its caution. - -“Heh?” said he. - -The question was repeated. - -“Depends whose it is,” was the testy answer. “You know that as well as -I do. If it’s Hobbema’s, it might be worth money.” - -“It isn’t Hobbema’s.” - -“Ah!” said S. Gedge Antiques. “Interesting to know that.” Had he been -on winking terms with his niece, he would have winked at her; as it -was, he had to be content with a sarcastic glance at the tablecloth. -“But how do you know?” he added, idly careless. - -“Anyone can see it isn’t.” - -Anyone could not see it wasn’t a Hobbema, and that was the snag in -the mind of the old man at this moment. Neither Mr. Thornton nor his -friend, Mr. Finch, was quite certain it was not a Hobbema; they were -even inclined to think that it was one, but in the absence of proof -they were not disposed to gamble upon it. - -“How do you mean, boy, that anyone can see it isn’t?” - -“That gleam of sunlight, sir.” The voice of William was music and -poetry in the ear of June. “I doubt whether even Hobbema could have -painted that.” - -“You tell that to the Marines,” said S. Gedge Antiques impatiently. -All the same he knew better than to discourage William in the process -of unbosoming himself. The young man was continually betraying such a -knowledge of a difficult and abstruse subject that it was becoming a -source of wonder to his master. “Maybe you’ve found somebody else’s -signature?” The tone was half a sneer. - -“Yes, sir, I rather think I have,” said William quite calmly and simply. - -“You have!” A sudden excitement fused the cold voice. “When did you -find it?” - -“It would be about half an hour ago.” - -“Oh, indeed!” said the old man. - -This queer fellow’s casual tone was extremely puzzling. Why should he -be inclined to apologise for having discovered the name of the artist, -when it was of such vital importance? The only possible explanation of -the mystery at once presented itself to the astute mind which asked the -question. - -“Then I expect you’ve been a fool. If you couldn’t find Hobbema’s -signature you had no right to find the signature of anyone else.” - -William was out of his depth. He could only regard his master with eyes -of bewilderment. But June was not out of hers; she was careful, all the -same, not to regard Uncle Si with eyes of any kind. She merely regarded -her plate. And as she did so, a little shiver that was almost pain ran -through her. Uncle Si was such a deep one that she felt ashamed of -knowing how deep he was. - -“I don’t understand, sir,” said William, in the way that only he could -have spoken. - -“Boy,” said his master, “you make me tired. In some ways you are -clever, but in others you are just the biggest idiot that ever -happened. I should have thought a child would have known that this has -either got to be a Hobbema or it has got to be nothing. The best thing -you can do is to go upstairs right now and take out that signature.” - -“But I understood you to say, sir, that the picture has no market value -without a signature.” - -“No more it has, you fool. But there may be those who think it’s a -Hobbema. And if there are, it is up to us to help them to keep on -thinking.” - -June hung breathlessly on every word that passed. She watched William -shake his head in slow and grave perplexity. - -“But anybody can see that it isn’t a Hobbema.” - -“Anybody can’t,” said the old man. “Mr. Thornton can’t for one, and -he’s a pretty good judge, as a rule. Mr. Finch is more doubtful, but -even he wouldn’t like to swear to it.” - -William shook his head. - -“Boy, you are a fool. You are getting too clever; you are getting above -your trade. Go at once and take out that signature, whatever it may be, -provided it isn’t Hobbema’s, and I’ll give you two pounds for the thing -as it stands. And let me tell you two pounds is money.” - -William shook his head a little more decisively. - -“I’d have to paint out the trees,” he said, “and the water, and that -cloud, and that gleam of sunlight before I could begin to touch the -signature.” - -“What do you mean?” - -“It’s a Van Roon,” said William, in a voice so gentle that he might -have been speaking to himself. - -S. Gedge Antiques laid his knife on his plate with a clatter. He gave -an excited snort. “Van Fiddlestick!” - -William’s smile grew so intense that June could hardly bear to look at -him. - -“Every inch of it,” said William, “and there are not so many, is Van -Roon.” - -“Why, there are only about a dozen Van Roons in existence,” said the -old man, a queer little shake coming into his voice. - -“There’s one more now, sir.” William’s own voice was curiously soft. - - - - -XI - - -“IF you go on like this,” said S. Gedge Antiques, after a -pause, full of drama, “you will have to have a cold compress put -on your head. Do you mean to tell me you have actually found the -signature?” - -“Yes, sir,” said William, “right down in the corner about half an hour -ago.” - -“Then why didn’t you say so instead of keeping it all to yourself?” - -“Because it doesn’t seem half so important as the other things I’ve -found.” - -“What other things?” - -“The trees and the water and that----” - -“We’ve heard more than enough about those. Here have you been rubbing -for that signature for the best part of a fortnight, and you pretend to -have found a Van Roon, and you keep it as close as the tomb.” - -“I had found Van Roon, sir, long before I came upon his name.” - -“Rubbish! What do you know of Van Roon?” - -“There is a Van Roon in the treasure house in the Square,” said William -with his inward smile. - -“There’s only one,” snapped S. Gedge Antiques, “in the treasure house -in the Square, as you call it, and it’s a very small one, too.” - -“Ours is very small, sir. All Van Roons are small. And they are very -scarce.” - -“They are so scarce, my friend, that you’ll never convince anybody that -ours is genuine.” - -“There’s no need, sir, provided you know it is yourself.” - -“But that’s just what I don’t know,” said the old man. “Anyhow you had -better go upstairs and fetch it. I’ll have a look at the signature of -Mynheer Van Roon.” And then Uncle Si scowled at his niece who, in a -state of growing excitement, had already begun to remove the bread and -cheese from the supper table. - -While the young man went up to the attic, his master ruminated. - -“Fellow’s cracked,” he declared, a hostile eye still fixed upon June. -“That’s his trouble. I’ll never be able to make anything of him. This -comes of Hobbemaising. Van Fiddlestick!” - -“Uncle Si,” said June, in the voice of a dove, “if it is a Van Roon, -what is the value of it?” - -“Heh?” growled Uncle Si, and his eye became that of a kite. “Never you -mind. Get on with the clearing of that table, and don’t interfere. I -never knew such creatures as women for minding other people’s business. -But I can tell you this, only a born fool would talk of Van Roon.” - -A born fool came down the stairs at that moment, the picture in one -hand, a microscope in the other. - -“It’s not a very good light, sir--” William’s voice trembled a -little--“but I think if you hold it up to the gas, you will be able to -see the signature right down in the corner. Just there, sir, along by -my thumb.” - -The old man, glass in hand, brought a close scrutiny to bear upon the -spot along by William’s thumb. Then he shook his head. - -“No, it is just as I thought. There doesn’t begin to be the sign of a -signature.” - -“Don’t you see the upstroke of the R?” - -“Don’t I see the leg of my grandmother!” - -“Just there, sir. Round by the edge of my finger nail.” - -S. Gedge Antiques solemnly exchanged his “selling” spectacles for his -“buying” ones, screwed up his eyes and grunted: “Why, that’s the tail -of a Q, you fool.” Again he took up the microscope and made prodigious -play with it. “That’s if it’s anything. Which I take leave to doubt.” - -William, however, was not to be moved. And then Uncle Si’s manner had -a bad relapse. He began to bully. William, all the same, stuck to his -guns with a gentle persistence that June could only admire. This odd -but charming fellow would have Van Roon, or he would have none. - -At last the old man laid the microscope on the supper table, and there -came into his cunning, greedy eyes what June called the “old crocodile” -look. “If you’ll take my advice, boy, you’ll turn that R into an A, and -you’ll make that upstroke a bit longer, so that it can stand for an H, -and you’ll touch up those blurs in the middle, so that ordinary common -people will really be able to see that it _is_ a Hobbema. Now what -do you say?” - -William shook a silent, rather mournful, head. - -“If you’ll do that, you shall have five pounds for it. That’s big money -for a daub for which you paid five shillings, but Mr. Thornton says -American buyers are in the market, and with Hobbemas in short supply, -they might fall for a thing like this. But of course the job must be -done well.” - -William was still silent. - -“Now what do you say, boy?” The Old Crocodile was unable to conceal his -eagerness. “Shall we say five pounds as it stands? We’ll leave out the -question of the signature. Mr. Thornton shall deal with that. Now what -do you say? Five pounds for it now?” - -William did not speak. It was at the tip of June’s tongue to relieve -his embarrassment by claiming the picture as her own; but, luckily, -she remembered that to do so just now might have an effect opposite to -the one intended. Even as it was, she could not refrain from making a -“mouth” at William to tell him to stand firm. - -He saw the “mouth,” but unfortunately so did Uncle Si. There were few -things escaped the old man when he happened to be wearing his “buying” -spectacles. - -“Niece, you cut off to bed,” he said sternly. “And you must learn not -to butt in, or one of these days you’ll bite granite.” - -June showed no desire to obey, but Uncle Si, with a look set and dour, -shuffled as far as the parlour door and opened it. “No more of it, my -girl.” The voice was full of menace. - -One further instant June hesitated. The picture had been given to her, -and the right and proper course was to claim it. But this daughter of -the midlands was afraid of a false move. The revelation sprang to the -tip of her tongue, yet a mysterious power seemed to hold it back. She -may have expected help from William, but he, alas, seemed too much -occupied in proving his case to be able to give a moment’s thought to -the picture’s ownership. - -“Off to bed with you.” The old man’s voice was now savage. “Or--!” -There was a world of meaning in the strangled threat. - -June climbed up to her attic with the best grace she could, her -thunderbolt unlaunched. As slowly she undressed by the uncertain light -of one poor candle, she felt very unhappy. Not only was there something -unpleasant, one might almost say wicked, about Uncle Si, but his manner -held a power of menace which fed her growing fear. - -What _was_ there to be afraid of? As she blew out the candle and -leapt into the meagre, rickety bed which had lumps in the middle, that -was the question she put to a rather stricken conscience. To ask the -question was not to answer it; a fact she learnt after she had said -her prayers in which Uncle Si was dutifully included. Perhaps the root -of the mischief was that the old man was so horridly deceitful. While -he held the picture up to the light, and he gazed at it through the -microscope, she fancied that she had seen the devil peeping out of -him. In a vivid flash she had caught the living image of the Hoodoo. -And June was as certain as that her pillow was hard, that cost what it -might he had made up his mind to get possession of the treasure. - -At the same time, she lacked the knowledge to enter fully into the -niceties of the case. The picture might be a thing of great value; on -the other hand it might not. She was not in a position to know; yet she -was quite sure that William in spite of his cleverness was in some ways -a perfect gaby, and that his master was out to take advantage of the -fact. - -As she sought in vain for a soft place in her comfortless bed, she was -inclined to admire her own astuteness in persuading William to bestow -the picture upon herself. It was for the Sawney’s own sake, that at -least was how she chose to view the transaction now. But a sense of -vague triumph was dashed by the thought lurking at the back of her -mind. Uncle Si was bound to get the picture from the feckless William -somehow; indeed the young man, being as clay in the hands of his -master, she was soon besieged with a fear that he had parted with it -already. - -The slow passing of the tardy minutes gave form and pressure to this -spectre. With an excitement that grew and grew she listened intently -for William ascending to the room next door. Soon or late she would -hear his feet on the carpetless stairs; but to one burning with -impatience it seemed that an age had to pass. - -At last came the sounds for which she was so expectantly listening. -The door of the next room was softly closed. What had happened? Was -the picture still in his keeping? To lie all night with that question -unanswered was more than she could bear. Suddenly she jumped out -of bed, flung a macintosh over her white nightdress, so that the -proprieties might be observed, thrust her feet into slippers and then -knocked upon William’s door. - -It was opened at once. - -“Why, Miss June!” Astonishment was in the tone. “Are you ill?” - -“The picture?” said June, in quick whisper, so that Uncle Si should not -hear. “You haven’t left it downstairs, I hope?” - -Laughing gently, William half turned from the threshold and pointed to -a small table in the middle of the room, on which lay the treasure -with a bit of candle burning beside it. - -A deep sigh expressed June’s relief. “Please give it to me. I will lock -it up in my box for safety.” - -He smiled at her eagerness, and declared that it was quite all -right where it was. Besides, another week’s work was needed to give -the last touches to the delicate process of cleaning. June, whose -careful bringing-up would not allow her to enter the room in such -circumstances, tried from its threshold to make clear that the picture -was already clean enough for her. But William was not to be moved. Many -exquisite details yet called for the labours of a true lover. - -“Well, you must promise,” whispered June finally, “to take -_enormous_ care of it. You must promise not to let it out of your -sight for a single moment.” - -William hesitated to give this pledge. It appeared that his master -wanted to show the picture to a friend; a fact which did but serve to -confirm June in her suspicions. But she had the wisdom not to put them -into words. She was content to affirm once more that the picture was -now hers and that she would not trust _anyone_ with a thing of -such value. - -“But I’d trust the master with my life,” said William softly. - -June felt that she would like to beat him for his innocence, as her -manner plainly showed. In some things he was almost too simple to live. - -Suddenly she gave him a stern good-night, and abruptly closed the door. -But it was long after Saint Martin’s Church had struck the hour of two -that sleep visited her pillow. - - - - -XII - - -THE next day was Saturday; and as the shop closed at one, June -prepared to keep her promise of accompanying William to his “treasure -house.” Strategy was needed, all the same. After she had washed up, she -put on her “going out” dress. But when she came downstairs in it, Uncle -Si, who took a most unwelcome interest in all her movements, inquired -what was in the wind. - -“I’m going to look at a hat,” was the answer, bland and cool. - -“Going to look _at_ a hat!” To the mind of Uncle Si it was an -unheard-of proceeding. “Next thing you’ll be wanting to buy a hat.” - -June confessed that it might be so. - -“You’ve got one already, haven’t you? Besides, the shops won’t be open.” - -The good shops might not be open, June allowed. But she was not seeking -a good hat. The article to which her fancy turned was for every-day -use; yet when all was said it was a mere blind. She did not really -intend to buy a hat, but she certainly meant if possible, to throw dust -in the eyes of the Old Crocodile. Had he been able to guess that she -was going with William to the National Gallery he would have banned the -expedition. - -In order to stand well with her conscience and not be a story teller -in the eyes of the world, June walked as far as the Strand, and -carefully inspected the window of a cheap milliner’s. And then, as -arranged, she met William as the clocks were striking three at the -Charing Cross corner of Trafalgar Square. - -It was a glorious September afternoon. And for June it was an exquisite -if brief escape from servitude. She had yet to see William apart from -the shop, yet now, as she came upon him standing by the post office, -she was quite struck by his appearance. Tall and slight of form, he -carried himself well, his neat suit of blue serge, old though it was -in the revealing light of the sun, was brushed with scrupulous care, -and his large flowing tie which he had the art of tying in a way of his -own, made him look so interesting that June secretly was rather proud -of being seen in his company. For undeniably he was handsome. In fact, -standing there straight, alert and smiling upon the world, he had a -look of mysterious charm which in the eye of one beholder raised him -above the run of men. - -At the sight of June, he lifted his old straw hat with a little air -of homage, and also with a slight blush that became him adorably. And -in his mood there was a poetry that delighted her, although she was -careful not to let him know it. - -“How wonderful it all is!” He waved his hand gaily to the sky. “And to -think that every bit of it belongs to you and me!” - -June, as matter-of-fact a young woman as the city of Blackhampton had -ever produced, felt bound to ask what William meant by this extravagant -remark. Charmed she was, and yet she was a little scandalised too. - -“Beauty, beauty everywhere,” said the young man, letting his voice -take its delicious fall. “There was an old Frenchman who said, that to -see Beauty is to possess it. Look, Miss June, at that marvellous blue, -and those wonderful, wonderful clouds that even Van Roon himself could -hardly have painted. It is all ours, you know, all for our enjoyment, -all for you and me.” - -“But you are speaking of the world, aren’t you?” There was a slight -note of protest in June’s solemn tone. - -“If you fall in love with beauty, all the world is yours. There’s no -escape from beauty so long as the sky is above us. No matter where we -walk we are face to face with beauty.” - -June was afraid that a girl who looked so smart in a lilac silk dress -and a picture hat that she had the air of a fashion plate must have -caught William’s injudicious observation. At any rate, she smiled at -him as they passed. But then arose the question, had he not first -smiled at her? Certainly, to be up against that intriguing frock, to -say nothing of the hat, must have meant rare provocation for such an -out-and-out lover of the ornamental. - -Miss Grandeur, no doubt, had caught the look in his eyes which a minute -ago June herself had surprised there. He simply could not help paying -tribute to such radiance. - -But was the girl beautiful? There was no doubt that William thought so. -Still, the worst of it was that in his eyes everything under the sun -was beautiful. - -“She’d be nothing at all if it were not for the money she spends on -herself,” June remarked, with more severity than relevance. - -All the same it was a rare experience to walk abroad with William. -He had an eye for all things and in all things he found the thing he -sought. - -On the steps of the National Gallery was a majestic policeman. To June -he was but an ordinary symbol of the law, but for William he had a -different message. - -“Good morning, sir!” - -At the compliment of this unwonted style of address, Constable X drew -himself up, and returned the greeting with a proud smile. - -“I can’t tell you how grateful we are to you,” said William, “for -taking such care of our treasures.” - -The policeman seemed rather amused. “It’s my job,” he said, training, -at the same time, upon June an eye of quizzical intelligence. It was -odd, yet all in a moment Constable X had ceased to be a stern-looking -fellow. - -As soon as William crossed the threshold of his treasure house, a -kind of rapture came upon him. His voice grew hushed. And to June it -seemed doubtful whether he would ever get beyond the Hermes on the main -staircase. Once within this palace of many enchantments, he began to -lose all sense of time and place; and, in spite of the fact that he was -the soul of chivalry, he even seemed in danger of forgetting that he -was accompanied by a lady. - -Troubled at last by the silence of her escort, June gently observed: -“This place seems nearly as big as the Blackhampton Art Museum.” - -To William’s fine perception it was a delicate reminder that art is -eternal, and that in the month of September the National Gallery closes -at six. - -The young man sighed deeply and turned away from the Hermes. Up the -main staircase they walked side by side. - -“Keep straight on, Miss June. If we glance to the right or the left, we -may not get to the Van Roon before next Saturday.” - -“We!” was June’s thought. “Better speak for yourself. In the -Blackhampton Art Museum we have things far nicer than a few old chipped -statues.” Happily, for the time being at least, it remained a thought -without words. - -They went through a room on the right, and then into an inner room. -June was led to its farthest corner, and proudly marshalled into the -presence of an object so small, and so insignificant, that she felt -it was really surprising that even William should attach the least -importance to it. - -However, a mere glance proved that it was not so surprising after all. -The picture contained a cloud, a tree, some water and a windmill. And -these objects in themselves so trivial, yet sufficed, as June had -learned already, to raise William at any time to the seventh heaven of -bliss. - -A moment’s inspection of the picture was enough for June. To her mind -the work was quite commonplace. Yet William stood in front of it in -an attitude of silent adoration, his head a little to one side, and -apparently holding his breath for such a long period that June began to -wonder how the trick was done. She was bound in honour to share this -silent ecstasy, but having varied the proceedings a little by standing -first on her right foot, and then on her left, she decided at last to -throw up her part. - -Very gently she put an end to William’s reverie. - -“I think I will sit down,” said June. - -“Please, please do!” The queer fellow came back with a start to the -world of reality. “Let us sit over there on the corner of that sofa. -Perhaps we may be able to see it even better then than we do now.” - -To the sofa they went accordingly and to June’s discomfiture her mentor -was at pains to dispose them both in a way that should enable them to -keep the picture in their eye. June had no wish to keep the picture in -her eye. She had had more than enough of it already. Besides, the large -room was full of things vastly more imposing, much better worth looking -at. But William, even seated on the sofa by her side, was still in -thrall to this remarkable work. - -There is no saying how long June’s trial would have lasted, but after -it had gone on for a length of time that began to seem interminable, it -came to an end in the most abrupt and dramatic way. Without any kind of -warning, a strange appearance swam into their ken. Uncle Si, looking -spruce and businesslike, and much better dressed than usual, entered -the room through the door behind them. - - - - -XIII - - -JUNE held her breath, while S. Gedge Antiques with thought for -nothing save the object that had brought him there, made a bee-line for -the picture at which William was still solemnly staring. The old man -put on his spectacles. Whether they were his “buying” or his “selling” -ones, June was unable to decide, but whichever they might be they had -an important function to perform. Uncle Si’s long and foxlike nose bent -so close to the paint that it might have been smelling it. - -June’s instinct was to flee before they were discovered. And perhaps -she would have urged this course upon William had not pride said no. -She was in mortal fear of the old man, yet she despised herself for -that emotion. After all, they were doing no wrong in spending Saturday -afternoon in such a very elevated form of amusement. Surely it devolved -upon her to stand up to this tyrant. - -William, for his part, was without misgiving. Thinking evil of none, -least of all his master, he was a little awed by that odd arrival, and -yet he was unfeignedly glad of his presence. The simpleton regarded -it as a compliment to himself that S. Gedge Antiques should take the -trouble to come in his own person to look at the Van Roon. - -At last S. Gedge Antiques turned away from the Van Roon, and little -suspecting who were so near to him, came full upon William and June -seated together upon the adjacent sofa. For a moment it was as if a -feather would have knocked him down. He could trust his eyes so little -that he hastily changed his spectacles. - -“What!” His brow was thunder. “You! Here!” - -June, ready to carry the war into the country of the enemy, was -prepared to offer a cool “Why not?” Happily, a second and wiser thought -led her to await developments. Secretly, Uncle Si was in a pretty rage -as June could tell by the look of him. But he was not one to let his -feelings override his judgment. Whatever they were, they could keep. He -had come there for a particular purpose; this afternoon he was bent on -business only. - -In the rasping voice which made June think of a file and sandpaper, S. -Gedge Antiques remarked: “Still Hobbemaising, eh?” - -William modestly admitted that he hoped Miss June would have a look at -The Avenue. - -“Let’s hope she’ll be the better for it.” The old man did his best to -be polite. “It will improve her mind, no doubt.” - -“But we have come to see the Van Roon, sir,” said William impulsively. - -“Oh, you have.” There was a sudden narrowing of foxy eyes. “Seems to -me, boy, you’ve got Van Roon on the brain.” - -William could not help laughing at his master’s tone of playfulness, -but June did not laugh. She knew but too well that as far as Uncle Si -was concerned, Van Roon was an exceedingly serious matter. - -“You are wise, boy”--the old man tried very hard to keep the sneer out -of his voice--“to come and find out what a Van Roon really looks like.” - -William modestly said that he thought he knew that already. - -His master shook the head of wisdom. “Judging by the way you’ve -been going on lately I take leave to doubt it. If you can trace the -slightest resemblance to that thing of ours”--as Uncle Si half turned -to point to the picture, June noticed that he was careful to say -“ours”--“I’m afraid, boy, you’re qualifying for Colney Hatch.” - -William laughed gaily at his master’s humour. He felt bound in honour -to do so, since the jokes from that quarter were thin and few. But June -did not laugh. Something cold, subtle, deadly, was creeping into her -heart. - -The old fox struck an attitude before the Van Roon. “How a man who -has his wits can compare that daub of ours with this acknowledged -masterpiece passes me altogether.” - -As a fact, William had not exactly compared his Crowdham Market -purchase with Number 2020 in the official catalogue. He had merely -affirmed that it was by the same hand. - -June was privileged to hear great argument. And as at her birth a kind -fairy had bestowed the gift of penetration upon her, she listened -to all that passed with a fixity of mind that was almost painful. -Carefully weighing the pros and the cons as they were advanced, she -was fully determined to get a real insight into the merits of a most -singular and perplexing matter. - -Who was in the right? It was the opinion of William against the -opinion of Uncle Si. From the first she had had horrid doubts of the -old man’s sincerity, yet she must not prejudge so grave an issue. -Account must be taken, moreover, of the entire range of William’s -fantastic ideas. The thought was not pleasant, but on the face of it, -Uncle Si was likely to be far the safer guide of the two. - -As June listened, however, to the wheedling sneers of the one and the -forthright tone of the other, almost too transparent in its honesty, -she could only conclude that Uncle Si was deliberately cheapening -William’s discovery for purposes of his own. - -Looking at the masterpiece on the opposite wall, with what June was -only too keenly aware were the eyes of ignorance, it was impossible to -deny an extraordinary similarity of subject and treatment. And this, -as she perceived at once, was where Uncle Si overdid it. He would not -allow that to the vision of a technical expert, the possession of which -he did not scruple now to claim for himself, there was the slightest -resemblance. Such similarities as might exist on the surface to delude -the untutored eye he explained away in a flood of words whose force -was intended to convince them both. But he convinced neither. June, -pinning her wits to a plain argument, smiled secretly as more than once -he contradicted himself. William on the other hand, was not permitted -by the love and reverence he bore his master, to submit his speeches to -the scale. He took his stand upon the divine instinct that was his by -right of birth. Such being the case he could but gently dissent from -the old man. It was one of his peculiarities that the surer he was, -the more gentle he grew. And therein, as June perceived, he differed -strangely from Uncle Si who could only render conviction in terms of -vehemence. - -Finally, as a clincher, S. Gedge Antiques growled: “Boy, you talk like -a fool!” and head in air, marched with the aid of his knobby walking -stick out of William’s treasure house. - -William and June having stood to talk with the old man, now sat down -again. - -“Thank goodness he’s gone!” said June. - -William confessed that the master had puzzled him considerably. - -“’Tisn’t like him to close his eyes to the facts of a case. I can’t -think what has happened to the master. He hardly ever makes a mistake.” - -Said June sagaciously: “Uncle Si being so wise about most things, isn’t -it likely that the mistake is yours?” - -“It may be so,” William allowed. But at once he added, with a divine -simplicity: “I will stake my life, all the same, Miss June, that our -picture is a Van Roon.” - -“Or a clever forgery, perhaps.” - -“No, no. As sure as you and I sit here, only one hand painted that -little thing of ours.” - -“Then why should Uncle Si declare that it doesn’t in the least resemble -a Van Roon?” - -“Ah, that I don’t know. It is very strange that he should be so blind -to the truth. As I say, it is the first time I have known it to happen.” - -“It may be,” said June, “that this is the first time there has been so -much money in the case.” - -William dissented gravely. “The master would never let money influence -him in a matter of this kind.” - -“Uncle Si lets money influence him in matters of every kind.” - -William shook his head. “I am afraid you don’t quite understand the -master,” he said, with a wonderful look in his deep eyes. - -June was too wise to contest the point. He might know more about -pictures than did she, but when it came to human nature it was another -pair of shoes. It made her quite hot with anger to feel how easily he -could be taken in. - -Sitting by William’s side on the edge of the sofa she made a vow. From -now on it should be her aim in life to see that Uncle Si did not get -the better of this young man. She had made a good and wise beginning -by inducing him to bestow the picture upon herself, instead of giving -it, as so easily might have happened, to the Old Crocodile. She knew -that some bad quarters of an hour lay ahead, in the course of which she -and her box might easily find themselves in the street; but come what -might, let her cherish that picture as if it were life itself. For she -saw with a startling clearness that William’s future, and perhaps her -own, was bound up in its fortunes. - -This surmise as to trouble ahead was borne out very exactly by events. -When accompanied by William she returned to tea in a state as near -positive happiness as she had ever known, Uncle Si’s aspect was so -hostile that it would not have been surprising had she been sent -packing there and then. The presence of William helped to restrain the -anger of S. Gedge Antiques, since there was more to lose than to gain -just now by fixing a quarrel upon him; but it was clear that the old -man did not intend to pass over the incident lightly. - -“Niece,” he began the moment his cup had been handed to him, “kindly -tell me what you mean by gallivanting about London.” - -A hot flame of resentment ran in June’s cheek. But she was too proud to -express it otherwise than by rather elaborately holding her peace. She -continued to pour out tea just as if not a word had been said on the -subject. - -“It’s my fault, sir,” said William, stepping into the breach -chivalrously, but with an absence of tact. “Miss June very kindly -consented to come and look at the Van Roon.” - -“There must be no more of it.” Miss June received the full benefit of a -north eye. “I will not have you going about with a young man, least of -all a young man earning fifteen shillings a week in my employ.” - -It was now the turn of William’s cheek to feel the flame, but it was -not in his nature to fight over a thing of that kind, even had he been -in a position to do so. Besides, it hardly needed his master to tell -him that he had been guilty of presumption. - -Indeed, the circumstances of the case made it almost impossible for -either of the culprits to defend such conduct in the other’s presence. -Yet June, to the intense astonishment of Uncle Si, and no doubt to her -own, contrived to give battle in hostile territory. - -“I can only say,” she remarked, with a fearlessness so amazing that -Uncle Si scalded his mouth by drinking out of his cup instead of out of -his saucer, “that if fifteen shillings a week is all that William gets, -it is just about time he had a rise in his wages.” - -For a moment Uncle Si could only splutter. Then he took off his -spectacles and wiped them fiercely. - -“Gracious goodness me! God bless my body and my soul!” June would not -have been at all surprised had the old slave-driver “thrown a fit.” - -“William is very clever,” she said undaunted. - -“Niece, hold your tongue.” The words came through clenched teeth. “And -understand, once for all, that I’ll have no more carryings-on. If you -don’t look out, you’ll find your box in the street.” - -Having put June out of action, the old man turned his attention to -William. But with him he walked more delicately. There must be no more -Van Rooning, but the ukase was given in a tone so oily that June just -had to smile. - -In spite of his own edict, however, it was clear that Van Roon -continued much in the mind of William’s master. The next day, Sunday, -instead of taking the air of the west central postal district, his -custom as a rule, when the forenoon was fine, he spent most of the -morning with the young man in the studio. June felt this boded so ill -that she went about her household chores in a fever of anxiety. She was -sure that Uncle Si had fully made up his mind to have the picture; he -meant, also, to have it at his own price. However, she had fully made -up hers that this tragedy simply must not occur. - - - - -XIV - - -JUNE, preparing for dinner a Yorkshire pudding, brought an -acute mind to bear on the still graver problem before it. What would -happen when Uncle Si found out that William had been persuaded to give -her the picture? It was a question she was bound to ask, yet she dare -not foretell the answer. William and she were completely in his power. -Wholly dependent upon the food and lodging the old man provided and the -few shillings a week with which he grudgingly supplemented them, they -could not afford to come to an open breach with him; at the same time -to June’s practical mind, it would be an act of sheer madness to give -up the rare thing that fortune had put into their hands. - -Her need just then was the advice of some able and disinterested -friend. There was only her power of putting two and two together to -tell her that the picture might be worth a large sum. And even that -did not allow her to know for certain; she must find a means of making -sure. Unhappily, there was not one person in the world to whom she -could turn for advice, unless it was William himself; and in plain -matters of business he seemed so hopelessly at sea--if they involved -dealings with his master at all events--that June was convinced he -would be no use at all. - -Beating up an egg for the Yorkshire pudding, she felt a deep concern -for what was now taking place up that second pair of stairs in the -garret next the tiles. Vainly she wished that she had had the sense to -ask William to keep back as long as possible the fact that he had given -the picture to her. But the mere request would have opened the door to -another anxiety. If the picture was what he thought it was, could such -a gift, made in such circumstances, be regarded as irrevocable? That -must be left to the giver himself to decide: assuming the simpleton had -enough strength of mind to prevent Uncle Si deciding it for him. - -The pudding was just ready for the oven when she heard Uncle Si come -downstairs. He went into the parlour, where every Sunday morning, with -the help of the _Exchange and Mart_ and half an ounce of shag, he -spent an hour in meditation. As soon as the door closed upon the old -man, June ran attic-wards to confer with William. - -There was no beating about the bush. Bursting in upon him breathlessly, -she cried: “I hope you have not told Uncle Si the picture is mine. I -had meant to warn you not to do so on any account--not for the present, -at least.” - -William looked up from the treasure with his absorbed air; but it -appeared that as yet he had not let the cat out of the bag. - -“I am very glad.” June breathed freely again. - -“I thought,” said William sadly, “it would be best not to tell the -master until after his dinner. But I fear that whenever he knows it -will upset him terribly.” - -“Why should it?” - -“It’s like this, Miss June--the master is fairly setting his heart upon -this picture.” - -“Then he’d better unset it,” said June harshly. - -Trouble came unmistakably into the expressive face of the picture’s -late owner. - -“I am afraid it will be quite a blow to him if he doesn’t get this -beautiful thing,” he said, gazing affectionately at what he held in his -hand. - -“And yet he thinks so little of it?” - -“Oh no! Not now. This morning after a careful examination he’s changed -his mind.” - -June was not impressed by this face-about on the part of S. Gedge -Antiques. “If you ask me,” she declared scornfully, “he changed his -mind some time ago. But he’s a bit too artful to let you know that.” - -“But why?” said William perplexedly. - -“Don’t you see that he thinks the more he cheapens it the easier it -will be to get it from you?” - -William could not bring himself to take so harsh a view. - -“What does he offer for it now?” the new owner of the Van Roon sternly -inquired. - -“You are not fair to the dear old master, believe me, Miss June.” The -young man spoke with charming earnestness. “He has such a reverence for -beauty that he cannot reckon it in terms of money. This morning I have -brought him to see with my eyes.” Pride and affection deepened in the -voice of the simpleton. “He has now such a regard for this lovely thing -that he will not be happy until he possesses it, and I shall not be -happy until you have given it to him.” - -June was simply aghast. - -“But--but it was given to me!” - -“I know--I know.” The giver was pink with confusion. “But you see, Miss -June, your uncle has quite set his heart on it. And I am wondering if -you will return it to me, so that I may offer it to him, as a token -of my love. No one could have had a better or kinder master. I owe -everything to him.” Suddenly, however, the young man was aware of her -dismay. “I do hope you will not mind too much,” he said, anxiously. “If -you will allow me, I will give you something else.” - -June averted her eyes. “You gave me this. And you can’t believe how -much it means to me.” - -“Yes, I know you have a great feeling for it. To part with it will -hurt you, I can see that. But please think of the dear old master’s -disappointment if he doesn’t get it.” - -“He merely wants it to sell again.” - -“You are unjust to yourself, Miss June, in thinking so. Money does not -enter into your feeling about this beautiful thing; it doesn’t enter -into mine. Why should it enter into the master’s, whose love of art is -so intense?” - -“Because his love of money is intenser. It’s his ruling passion. Where -are your eyes that they can’t see a thing as plain as that?” - -She must be as gentle as she could with this absurd fellow, yet she -feared that such words must cause a wound. And the wound was wilfully -dealt. It was so important that he should be made to see the whole -thing as really and truly it was. But her hope was slight that he would -ever be brought to do so. - -“I beg you,” he said, almost with passion, “to let me have it back, so -that I may give it to the dear old master.” - -“It is madness,” said June bitterly. “He has no true feeling for the -picture at all.” - -She saw that her words were unwise. They made her own position worse. -But faced by such an appeal she had to do her best on the spur of the -moment. - -“I know how much it means to you.” Pain was clouding the eyes of this -dreamer. “I know your love for it is equal to mine, but that will make -our joy in giving it to your uncle so much the greater.” - -“But why to Uncle Si--of all people?” - -“He wants it.” William’s voice was low and solemn. “At this moment, I -believe he wants it more than anything else in the world.” - -June said with scorn: “He wants it as much as he wants a thousand -pounds. And he doesn’t want it more. I believe money is his god. Think -of the fifteen shilling he pays you a week. It makes my blood boil.” - -A quick flush sprang to the young man’s cheek. “Money has nothing to do -with this, Miss June.” - -“It has to do with everything.” - -Delicately he ventured to contradict. “Where love is, money doesn’t -come in. I simply want to offer this priceless thing to the old master -out of a full heart, as you might say.” - -“Then you shouldn’t have parted with it.” She hated herself for her -words, but she was not in a mood to soften them. “You have already had -the pleasure of giving it to me, therefore it is only right that you -should now deny yourself the pleasure of giving it to Uncle Si. It is -like eating your cake and having it.” - -William was not apt in argument, and this was cogent reasoning. He -lacked the wit to meet it, yet he stuck tenaciously to his guns. “When -you realize what this rare treasure means to the old man, I’m sure -you’ll change your mind.” - -June shook her head. Secretly, however, she felt like weakening a bit. -In the wistful voice was a note that hurt. But she could not afford -to yield; there was far too much at stake. “I shall have to think the -matter over very carefully,” she temporised. “And, in the meantime, not -a word to Uncle Si that the picture’s mine.” - -She mustered the force of will to exact a promise. Bewildered, sad, a -little incredulous, he gave it. - -“_I hope he doesn’t hate me half as much as I hate myself_,” was -the swift and sickening thought that annihilated June, as she ran from -the studio, having recollected with a pang of dismay that she had not -put in the pudding for dinner. - - - - -XV - - -DINNER was a miserable meal. The Yorkshire pudding was light, -the roast sirloin was done to a turn, the potatoes were white and -floury, the kidney beans were tender, but June could find nothing in -the way of appetite. The mere presence of William at the other side of -the table was almost more than she could bear. So keen was her sense of -a terribly false position that she dare not look at him. What did he -think of her? How must she appear to one all high-minded goodness and -generosity? - -Surely he must know, after what had just passed, that her love of the -picture was mere base deceit. Surely he must hold such an opinion of -her now that he would never believe or trust her again. And the tragedy -of it was that she could not hope to make him see the real motive which -lay behind it all. - -Seated at the table, making only a pretence of eating, but listening -with growing anger and disgust to the artful change she now detected -in the tone of Uncle Si, it was as if the chair in which she sat was -poised on the edge of an abyss. William must despise her quite as much -as she despised the Old Crocodile, was the thought which turned her -heart to stone. - -S. Gedge Antiques having had the wit to discover the set of the wind, -had begun most successfully to trim his sails. An hour’s careful -examination of the picture that morning had convinced him that he -had underrated its merits. There was very good work in it, and as a -lifelong lover of art--with a devout glance at William--good work -always appealed to him. But whether the thing, as a whole, was to be -rated as highly as William put it, was decidedly an open question. -Still the picture had merit, and personally he should treasure it as -much for William’s sake as for its own. - -June realized that it was now the turn of this cunning old fox to make -love to the Van Roon’s owner. But was he cunninger than she? Yet what -concerned her more than anything just now was the plain fact that he -had already managed to persuade himself that the treasure was his -property. - -This was not the hour to disabuse his mind. And no matter when that -hour came she foresaw a dire quarrel. She was now involved in a -business to strain all the resources of her diplomacy. But William -needed help. Cost what it might the task devolved upon her of looking -after his affairs. - -William, meanwhile, in his own peculiar way, seemed not averse from -looking after hers. After dinner her first duty was to clear the table -and wash up; and he simply insisted upon bearing a hand. He carried the -tray into the back kitchen, and then, almost with defiance, presided -at the washing of the crockery, while she had to be content with the -humbler office of drying it. - -“It’s your hands I’m thinking of, Miss June.” - -“My hands are no affair of yours,” was the terse reply. - -The lover of beauty shyly declared that such hands were not meant for -such a task. - -“Nothing to write home about--my hands aren’t.” - -Politely sceptical, William drew from his pocket a bit of pumice stone. - -“It is to take the soils out of your fingers,” he said, offering this -talisman shyly. - -June’s face was now a tawny scarlet. She did not know whether to laugh -or to be angry. Yet how was it possible to be angry with a creature who -was so charmingly absurd? - -“May I take them out for you?” - -The answer was “no.” - -But somehow her face must have said “yes.” For without more ado, the -amazing fellow took one of her hands and with nice discretion began to -apply the pumice stone. - -“There, now,” he said finally. - -A stern rebuke trembled upon her lips, yet with the best will in the -world it could not find a form of words whereby to get itself uttered. - - - - -XVI - - -A LITTLE later in the day Uncle Si came into the back kitchen -where June was at work. It seemed that he had an announcement to make. - -“Niece, there’s a piece of news for you. I’ve decided to take Mrs. -Runciman back.” - -June saw no reason why Mrs. Runciman should not be taken back. Indeed, -she would welcome the return of the charwoman. It would certainly -reduce the burden of her own labours which was by no means light. - -“You and I are not going to hit it off, I can see that. Already there’s -been too much of your interference. Next thing you’ll upset that boy. -And I wouldn’t have that happen--not for a thousand pounds. So I think -the best thing I can do is to take Mrs. Runciman back, and get her to -find you a job.” - -“For me!” said June slowly. “Mrs. Runciman find a job for me!” - -“If she comes you’ll have to go. I can’t afford to keep a couple o’ -women eating their heads off. The times don’t run to it.” - -“What sort of a job do you expect a charwoman to find for me?” June -asked, biting her lip. - -“She may know of somebody who wants a domestic help. As far as I can -see, you are not fitted for anything else.” - -That was true enough, as June felt with a sharp pang. She was a girl -without any sort of training except in the tedium of housework. No -other career was open to her and she was going to be turned adrift. -There came a hot flame to her cheeks, a sting of quick tears to her -eyes. She was a proud and ambitious girl; never had she felt so keenly -humiliated. - -“If you stay here,” said Uncle Si, “you’re sure to upset that boy. And, -as I say, rather than that should happen I’d pay a thousand pounds to a -hospital.” - -June didn’t reply. But in a surge of feeling she went up to her attic, -and with rage in her heart flung herself full length on the bed. - -The blow was fully expected, yet that hardly made the weight of it -less. Soon or late this miser was bound to turn her out of doors; yet -coming at such a time “the sack” was in the nature of a calamity. - -Well, she must face it! Domestic service was the only thing to which -she could turn her hand, and that, she foresaw, was likely to prove a -form of slavery. A future, hard, confined and miserable, lay in front -of her. - -Bitterly she regretted now that she had not been able to fit herself -for some other way of life. She had had a reasonably good education, as -far as it went, in her native town of Blackhampton, where her father at -one time had been in a moderately good position. But he had died when -she was fourteen. And her mother, with health completely broken several -years before her death had been left so badly off that June, perforce, -had to give up all thoughts of a wider field. Stifling vague ambitions, -she had bravely submitted to the yoke but, in spite of a sense of duty -honestly, even nobly done, the sequel was a grim distaste of household -drudgery. And this had not been made less by a month under the roof of -S. Gedge Antiques. - -With a gnawing sense of misery that was like a toothache, June slid off -the bed and looked at herself in the cracked mirror which adorned the -crazy dressing-table. Her only assets were comprised in her personal -appearance. Instinctively she took stock of them. Alas, as she beheld -them now, they were pretty much a “washout.” - -First to strike her was the tell-tale redness of her eyelids, and that -disgusted her to begin with. But, apart from that, she felt in her own -mind that her personality was not really attractive. Her education was -small, her life had been restricted and narrow; and now there seemed no -way out. - -Honestly she was not pretty, she was not clever, and she knew next to -nothing of the world. Even at Blackhampton, where the supply of smart -girls was strictly limited, she had never passed for anything out of -the common. She had felt sometimes that her nature was too serious. In -a girl a serious nature was a handicap, she had once heard Mr. Boultby, -the druggist at the corner of Curzon Street, remark. One “asset,” -however, she certainly had. The mop of golden-brown hair had always -been her stand-by, and Mr. Boultby, that man of the world, had paid -her compliments upon it. An artist would revel in it, he had said. -Certainly there was a lot of it, and the colour having aroused comment -even in her early days at the High School among her form-mates, it was -no doubt rather striking. She was also inclined to be tall and long in -the leg, she knew that her shoulders and chest were good, she prided -herself upon the neatness of her ankles, yet at the back of her shrewd -mind lurked the fear that the general effect must be plainness, not -beauty. She had heard Mr. Boultby, always a friend, describe her as -“unusual,” but she had felt that it was his polite way of saying she -was not so good-looking as she might be. - -No, wherever her fortune might lie, it was not in her face. Once -or twice, in her romantic Blackhampton phases, which at best were -very brief and few, she had thought of the stage. But one month of -London had convinced her that it was not her line. Considering her -inexperience of life her fund of horse sense was rather remarkable. She -was a great believer in the doctrine of “looking facts in the face.” -And the fact she had to meet now was that she was not in any way pretty -or talented. Unless you were one or the other, and London teemed with -girls who were both, the doors of the theatre were locked and barred. - -Back on the edge of the bed, she began to consider the question of -learning shorthand and typing, so that she might become a clerk in an -office. But her means were so scant that the plan was hardly feasible. -Really it seemed that no career was open to her, other than the one she -loathed. And then the thought of William came. At once, by a strange -magic, it eased the pressure. Heart, brain and will were merged in an -immediate task; she must stand between this child of nature and the -avarice of his master. - -The sudden thought of William brought courage, tenacity, fighting -power. She knew that at this moment he was the other side the wall. An -impelling need urged her to go to him. Forgetful of red and swollen -lids she got up at once and went and knocked on the studio door. - -A familiar voice said, “Come in!” - -William, as usual in that room, was pottering about amid oils, -canvasses and varnish. He was in shirt sleeves, he wore a large apron, -his shock of fair hair, which gave him the look of a poet, was rumpled, -there was a smudge on his cheek, but the absorption of his eyes, their -look of intensity, half filled her with awe. - -She had really come to tell him that she was going to be sent away. But -as soon as she found herself in his presence she was overcome by sheer -pride. From the first this young man had treated her with a deference -which implied that she was of a clay superior to his own. His bearing -towards her always stressed the fact that she was the niece of his -good master, and that he was a servant humbly grateful for his fifteen -shillings a week. - -At first this attitude had fed her vanity in a subtle way. But now, in -present circumstances, it seemed almost to enrage her. It was quite -absurd that a man of such distinguished talent should place her upon a -pedestal. The truth of the matter was she was unfit to lace his shoes, -and it was amazing that he did not know it. - -Upon her entrance William had immediately risen from his stool, and -had bowed slightly over the pot of varnish he held in his hand, with -a half-humorous air of homage, as some famous chemist might have -done when disturbed by a great lady in the midst of his wonderful -researches. “I know it’s not me you have come to see,” his gentle -manner seemed to say; “it is this marvellous thing on the easel at my -elbow.” - -All the same it was William she had come to see. She had come to him -for countenance and sympathy. And it did not help her at all that -she should be treated with a shy reserve. She craved to be told that -she had come to mean something to him; she craved to be told that his -fastidious concern for her hands, and the regard he had for a beauty in -which she herself did not believe was more than mere chivalry towards -women in general. Alas, in spite of the eager friendliness of her -reception this was not apparent. In the eyes of William she was just -the master’s niece, and the incident of the pumice stone was without -significance, beyond the fact that he was no more than the least of her -servants. - -It was very exasperating. - -“But if you are wise,” said a voice within, “you will not let this Gaby -know that you think so.” - - - - -XVII - - -JUNE spent a worried and disconsolate night. She had very -little sleep. Time and again she listened to the melancholy drip-drip -of rain on the eaves just over her head. Never in her life had she felt -so wretched. She was horribly lonely, without resources or friends. How -she was to live through the endless years of servitude and dependence -on the will of others that lay ahead she did not know. - -To keep on telling oneself to bear up seemed of little use. She had had -to do that each hour of each day since her mother’s death. The prospect -of being cast upon the world was indeed dispiriting, yet in the end it -might turn out better than to sacrifice one’s youth upon the altar of -such a Moloch as Uncle Si. - -As people who sleep ill are apt to do, she fell into a comfortable doze -just about the time she ought to be getting up. Thus, to her dismay, -she entered upon the trying institution known as Monday morning at a -quarter past seven instead of half past six. - -“Uncle Si will be growling for his breakfast in another quarter of -an hour,” was the thought that urged her into her clothes with a -frantic haste. One twist she gave and no more, without so much as a -glance in the glass, at the mane of brown gold hair, and then she flew -downstairs, buttoning the front of her dress. - -A fire was burning in the kitchen grate, and upon it slices of bacon -were sizzling in a frying-pan; the cloth was laid for breakfast; -moreover, the parlour was already swept and dusted. In fact, at the -precise moment of June’s belated appearance upon the scene, William, -with a businesslike air, was returning from a visit to the dustbin. - -When they met in the passage by the scullery she came within an ace -of rebuking him. “Even if I oversleep myself you’ve no right to be so -officious,” was the sharp phrase which rose to her lips. But a saving -sense of justice, not always at the service of the female soul, held it -back. After all, such kindness and devotion were worthy of respect; he -had saved, besides, an unpleasant scene with Uncle Si. - -“Oh, thank you, William, ever so much,” she had the grace to murmur, -hoping as she hastily disposed of the last button of her dress, that he -wouldn’t notice she had come down, “half undone.” - -“Please don’t mention it, Miss June,” he said, with the politeness of -a courtier, as he returned the empty dustpan to its home beneath the -scullery sink. “As you didn’t seem quite yourself last night I was -hoping you would not get up at all this morning. I was going to bring -your breakfast up to you, and set it outside your door.” - -“Oh, but you are much too kind.” A sudden fierce rush of colour made -her cheeks burn horribly. He was a very nice fellow, even if he was not -so bright in some things as he ought to be. - -Uncle Si, by the grace of providence, was a few minutes late for his -breakfast. This seldom happened for, as a rule, he was the soul of -punctuality. However, he was going down to Newbury by the nine o’clock -from Paddington to attend a sale; in consequence, he had bestowed far -more pains upon his appearance than was usual at this early hour. He -was in a fairly good humour. The fact that the charwoman’s return would -enable him “to fire” his niece had cheered him so much that for once he -had slept like a just man. - -“Don’t expect me until supper time,” he said to June, as he put on his -high felt hat and his macintosh, and grasped the knobbed stick, as ugly -as himself, which invariably accompanied his travels. “And my advice to -you, my girl, is to think over very carefully what I said to you last -night.” - -With an air of quiet satisfaction, S. Gedge Antiques stepped briskly -forth into a soft autumn day where the sun as yet could not quite make -up its mind to greet him. - -It was to be a day of great events. And the first of these began to -materialise shortly before eleven when June chanced to enter the shop. -William, just at that moment, was fathoms deep in conversation with a -customer. The customer was very tall, she was strikingly distinguished -and, in the opinion of June, she was dressed exquisitely. Soft silk and -faint blue Chinese embroidery clothed her with a dangerous beauty. But -it was the coquetry of her hat, an artful straw wreathed wonderfully in -flowers of many a subtle shade that gave the crowning touch. - -The hat it was, no doubt, that completed William’s overthrow. There was -a look of rapture in the eyes with which the vain fellow regarded its -wearer, for which June could have found it in her heart to slay him on -the spot. - -That tell-tale look was really a little too much. June could not help -lingering on the threshold to watch these two. So shamelessly was -William engrossed with this vision of pure beauty that there was not -a chance of his eyes straying to look at her. And she would not have -cared if they had. Such an irrational surge of jealousy was now in her -heart that she would have welcomed his seeing what she thought of his -gazing like that, even upon the grandest young woman in the land. - -“So nice of you to take so much trouble,” the fair customer said in -a voice of such melody that June had to own that the celebrated Miss -Banks, the daughter of Blackhampton’s chief physician, whose charm of -manner had ever remained in her mind as the high-water mark of human -amenity, would now have to take second place. - -“Not at all, madam,” said William, in the William way. Even June had to -admit that such fine courtesy, a little excessive, no doubt, was far -removed from mere sycophancy. Had he not practised on her? For that -reason she had a perfect right to feel furious; William’s homage was -far too inclusive. At the same time, there was no gainsaying that in -this case he had every excuse. Regarded as the mirror of fashion and -the mould of form, Miss Banks of Blackhampton was now a back number. - -“The friend I sent it to liked it very much indeed,” said the -Super-girl. “It was so exactly what she wanted. And if by chance you -are able to match it, I shall be most grateful.” - -William, with that divine air of his, promised quite simply and -sincerely to do his best. - -“The price, too, was very moderate,” said the Super-girl with the -geniality of one who owns a province. Then suddenly she half turned, -and her merry glance, assisted by a Miss Banksian stick-eyeglass was -trained full upon the Hoodoo. “What a delicious monster!” The voice had -quite a Brahms trill in it, not that June had ever heard of Brahms. “It -reminds one of Edgar Allan Poe or the Grand Guignol.” - -Unabashed by culture, William stood to his full height. June could only -marvel at his coolness. - -“So Oriental. So grotesque. Makes one think of Ali Baba and the Cave of -the Forty Robbers. Very valuable, of course?” - -“No, I wouldn’t exactly call it valuable.” June hardly knew whether to -admire or to deplore this candour. “And it takes up a lot of room, and -absorbs a lot of light. Almost needs the British Museum, as you might -say, to show it to advantage.” - -Again the Brahms trill, as the eye of the Super-girl travelled from the -Hoodoo to William. “Those fearful eyes and those grinning jaws studded -with crocodile’s teeth make it look absolutely alive. And it’s so -perfectly hideous that one feels sure there must be a curse on it.” - -“Mr. Gedge declares there is.” - -“Really?” The eyes, the blue eyes of the Super-girl grew round and -merry. “I’d love to have a thing with a curse on it--if it’s a real -one?” - -“Mr. Gedge would part with it for a very reasonable sum I feel sure,” -said William, with a judicious air that June admired the more for being -hardly able to credit it in him. - -With the casual air so becoming to riches, the young woman asked the -price. - -“Twenty pounds would buy it,” she was informed. - -“Curse and all?” - -“Curse and all, madam.” William had a nice sense of humour, which June -had discovered before she had known him an hour, but in this big moment -he did not relax a muscle. - -For about a quarter of a minute the Super-girl looked again at the -Hoodoo. And then with the air of one who takes a great decision, she -gave the ugly chin a playful tap and said: “I believe the long gallery -at Homefield is the very place for you, my friend. You may not be a -thing of beauty, but at the far end I am sure you would be a joy for -ever!” She made then such fine play with her stick-eyeglass, that Miss -Banks was put off the map altogether. “And a real live curse given in, -I think you said?” - -William bowed a grave affirmative. - -It was clear that Miss Blue Blood was intrigued. She folded, unfolded, -refolded her stick-eyeglass; she looked the Hoodoo up, she looked the -Hoodoo down, standing three paces back in order to do so. “Before I -really decide”--addressing the monster in a voice of warm caresses--“I -must get my father to come and look at you, my dear. He’s wiser than I -in these matters. You might kill all the pictures in the long gallery.” - -At this point William bowed again with exceeding deference. But here -was not the end. The stick-eyeglass lit on the bowl of Lowestoft, which -the Sawney who was turning out to be not quite such a sawney as he -seemed, had picked up in his recent travels in Suffolk. - -“I like that. What a charming piece!” - -Mr. Half-Sawney held the charming piece to the light for Miss -Stick-eyeglass to gaze upon. - -“Yes--really quite charming!” - -Their heads were so close while together they bent over its beauties, -that June, without wishing real harm to either, could have found it in -her heart to hope that the bowl might fall from the hands of William -and break into a thousand pieces. - -“What is the price?” - -The bowl was turned on to its base while the young man glanced at the -mystic code which had been traced by the hand of S. Gedge Antiques. - -“Six guineas, madam,” she was most deferentially informed. - -“I collect Lowestoft. A charming piece. It will go so well with my -others. Will you kindly send it to 39b, Park Lane?” - -“Certainly, Miss Babraham.” - -The amazing Miss Babraham opened a vanity bag, took out a sheaf of -notes, and chose six which, with the smile of a siren, she handed to -William, who received them with one more bow from his full height, and -proceeded to write out a receipt. - -Somehow this transaction was altogether too much for June. Flashing one -long last glance of immeasurable venom upon the stick-eyeglass who, all -unconscious of the deadly passions it had aroused, had now returned to -elegant and final contemplation of the Hoodoo, the niece of S. Gedge -Antiques withdrew hurriedly to the scullery sink, filled a bucket of -water, and proceeded with a kind of contained fury to scrub the floor -of the larder. - - - - -XVIII - - -WHEN William came in to dinner there was music to face. But -as there was no sure ground at the moment for real battle, the music -opened _pianissimo_. It began with a few rather pointed enquiries. - -“Had a rather busy morning, haven’t you?” - -“I don’t think it has been anything out of the way,” was the -non-committal answer. - -“Done any business?” The question was casual, but June fixed him with -her eye. - -“Oh, yes!” So light and airy was the tone that business might have -mattered nothing. “I’ve sold the Lowestoft bowl.” - -“Uncle Si’ll be pleased, I expect.” She found it terribly difficult to -keep a sneer out of her voice, but you never know what you can do till -you try. “Fetch much?” - -She knew perfectly well, of course, the price it had fetched. - -“Six guineas!” - -“Isn’t that a pretty good profit on what you paid for it at -Saxmundham?” said June, with the precision of the born head for affairs. - -“I got it for thirty shillings at Saxmundham, but of course that was at -a sale.” - -“Seems a fair profit, anyway.” - -“Yes, I suppose it is.” - -“Will you get any?” - -“Oh no!” said William, trying to spear a pickled walnut in a glass jar. - -“Then I think it’s an infamous shame that the whole of that six guineas -should go into the pocket of Uncle Si.” - -With a polite shake of the head, William dissented. “But don’t you see, -I couldn’t have bought it unless the master had given me the money, and -also marked the catalogue.” - -“It was your brains that bought it. And your brains sold it, too. I -think you ought to see that Uncle Si is simply living upon them.” - -“No, no, Miss June,” said William staunchly. “Please don’t forget that -it is the master who taught me everything.” - -June declined to argue the point. She knew it was no use. For the -hundredth time she was up against his fixed idea. Besides, there was -something else to talk about. - -“To whom did you sell that beautiful bowl?” Her voice was that of the -dove. - -“I sold it to a Miss Babraham,” said the Sawney in a voice of perfectly -stupendous impersonality. - -“To a Miss Who?” - -She had caught the name quite clearly, and not for the first time -that day, but there was a kind of morbid fascination in toying with a -subject which was really without significance, and could lead nowhere. -All the same she pined for an insight into the workings of the mind -of this strange young man who was such a baffling mixture of the -over-simple and the highly gifted. - -“Her name is Miss Babraham.” - -“Who is she when she is at home?” - -She tried hard to imitate a detachment which was a little uncanny, yet -knowing all the time that she was making a sad hash of the performance. -The trick seldom comes easy to the daughters of Eve. - -“Who did you say she was?” - -“Her father is Sir Arthur Babraham.” The impersonality of William made -her writhe. - -“Oho!” said June, still trying her best to rise to William’s level, and -fully conscious that she was failing miserably. “One of the big bugs, -eh?” - -It was vulgar, she knew, to speak in that way. Among the things she had -learned at the Blackhampton High School was a due and proper regard -for baronets. Miss Preece, its august headmistress, would have been -shocked, not merely by her tone, but also by her choice of words. But -High School or no High School, the intrusion of Sir Arthur Babraham -suddenly made her see red. She must be vulgar--or burst! - -“What you’d call one of the smart set, I suppose?” said June abruptly -breaking a long and rather trying pause. “Well, I don’t think much of -her stick-eyeglass, anyway.” - -Terrific disparagement of Miss Babraham, her works and her belongings -was intended, yet to the queer creature seated opposite who by now -was almost ready for the tapioca pudding, which had been so carefully -prepared for him, it did not seem to imply anything at all. - -“You take no stock of smart sets, I dare say,” said June, with growing -truculence. “You’ve never heard of them, have you? China tea sets are -more in your line, aren’t they?” - -That was real wit, and people far less clever than this Sawney--a -contradiction in terms and yet the only word which seemed to describe -him after all!--must have seen the force of it. But not he! He solemnly -rose and collected the plates, and then fetched in the tapioca pudding -for all the world as if there was absolutely no point in the remark. - -“Who did you say that tall girl was?” said June, returning mothlike to -the flame, as she helped the Sawney very substantially to his favourite -dish. - -“Miss Babraham!” - -“And who did you say her father was?” - -“Sir Arthur Babraham!” - -“And what might _he_ do for a living?” - -This was not ignorance. It was mere facetiousness. She knew quite well -that no Sir Arthur Babraham since first invented by that ridiculous -monarch, King James, had ever done anything for a living. But it was -good to feel how such a “break” would have hurt Miss Preece. - -“He’s one of the richest men in England,” said William, dipping his -spoon into his tapioca with an impersonality which approached the -sublime. - -June knew that. There was the daughter of Sir Arthur Babraham to prove -it. - -“One of Uncle Si’s best customers, I suppose?” - -“Doesn’t often come here. But he has wonderful taste.” - -“In daughters?” said June sardonically. - -“In everything. Only last night I read in the paper that there isn’t a -better judge of pictures living.” - -June merely said “Oh!” - -“He’s one of the trustees of the National Gallery, you know.” - -“Oh!” said June. - -“And owns a very fine private collection of the Dutch School.” - -“Does he?” It was June’s turn now to be impersonal; in fact, it was up -to her to let him see that it would take more than Sir Arthur Babraham -and a private collection of the Dutch School to impress her. - -“I suppose his daughter is what you’d call rather _fetching_?” -She had once heard the word on the lips of the admired Miss Banks at a -charity bazaar. - -But in William’s opinion it was not adequate to the occasion. - -“To my mind,” he said, and his voice fell, “she’s a non-such.” - -June stepped midway in the act of bestowing upon him a second helping -of tapioca. - -“She’s a what?” she demanded fiercely. - -“A museum piece, Miss June.” His enthusiasm was restrained but none the -less absurd. “She’s hallmarked. She walks in beauty.” A blush, faint -yet becoming, slowly overspread William’s delicately tinted complexion. - -June snorted. Had it been within the province of eyes to slay, this -Gaby would have had no use for a second helping of tapioca. - -“Glad to know that!” said June, homicidally. “As you are so set on -beauty, you must have had an interesting morning.” - -A disgracefully impersonal silence was William’s only answer. The -deadliness of the observation seemed completely lost upon him. But was -it?--that was the question for gods and Woman. Such a silence might -mean anything. - -“I suppose you’d say she had wonderful taste?” - -“Miss Babraham?” - -“No, Joan of Arc,” said Woman, venomously. - -“Her taste is very good indeed--that is, in some things.” - -“In hats, I suppose.” - -“I meant in old china,” said the impersonal one. “I’ve never known her -to make a mistake in old china.” - -“That’s interesting.” It was a weak remark, but June had seldom felt -less conversationally brilliant. - -Silence again. A third helping of tapioca was politely declined. June -then pushed across the cheese. William removed its cover, and disclosed -an extremely meagre piece of Leicestershire. - -“Please may I give you a little?” he asked, with his inimitable air. - -“There’ll be none for yourself if you do. Besides, I don’t want any. No -thank you.” She remembered her manners, although that was not easy just -now. “I’ll go out presently and buy some more. I’d quite forgotten the -cheese.” - -“Please--please take this tiny piece.” - -“When I say no, I don’t mean yes,” said June, tempering strength of -character with calm politeness. “I can’t imagine Miss Babraham eating a -piece of Leicestershire cheese in a dirty overall--can you?” - -The remark was so irrelevant that it verged upon the grotesque. Heaven -knows from what malign impulse it sprang. No girl in her senses would -ever have made it. Giant Despair and the Hag Desperation must have been -its sponsors. - -It was quite open to William to follow the line of least resistance -and ignore the question. A William less true-blue, a William less a -gentleman right through to the core might without dishonour have done -so. But this was a William of a nobler clay. - -“Miss June, your overall isn’t dirty.” - -The rich sincerity of these six and a half little words seemed gravely -to imperil the whole sublime edifice of his impersonality. - -He was contradicted flatly for his pains; yet she knew in her heart -that whether the overall was dirty or whether it was clean, the -renegade was already half forgiven. - -“What did you think of her dress?” This new on-rush of irrelevance was -despicable, but she seemed quite to have lost control of herself. - -“It was perfect. To my mind, nothing is more becoming to a tall lady -than a dress of soft dark blue silk.” - -Dyed-in-the-wool idiot! As though it was not his clear and obvious duty -never even to have noticed whether Miss Babraham wore a dress of soft -blue silk or a muslin with spots or a grey alpaca, or just a plain -serge coat and skirt. Times there are when the stupidity of the human -male has really no limit. - -“Must have cost a pretty penny,” said June acidly. - -William shook his head, and boldly affirmed that it couldn’t be bought -for money. - -“That’s just nonsense,” said June tartly. “There isn’t a dress in the -world that couldn’t be bought for money.” - -“What I really mean is, to have a dress which looked like that, you -would also have to buy the wearer,” said William the amazing. - -June expressed a ripe scorn by vehemently beginning to clear the -table. High time, certainly. They had been discussing cold mutton and -pickled walnuts and tapioca pudding and Leicestershire cheese and -things and women for one solid hour by the Queen Anne clock, a real -antique, in the middle of the chimneypiece, for which S. Gedge had -lately refused the sum of forty guineas. - - - - -XIX - - -IN the course of the afternoon, June found herself immersed in -the crisis of her fate. It began with a desire to own a dress of soft -blue silk. This, she well knew, was insane. In the first place, she was -still in mourning for her mother; in the second, she must hoard every -penny of her slender means; in the third, was William’s conviction that -the success of a dress depended upon its wearer. - -Not a shade of excuse could be found for this vaulting ambition. But -it was fixed so firmly in the centre of her mind, that when she set -out soon after three to order the cheese she could think of nothing -else. The grocer was at the end of the street and two minutes did -her business with him. And then in the toils of imperious desire she -marched boldly down to Charing Cross and took a bus to Oxford Circus. - -A yearning for a dress of blue silk was upon her like a passion. It was -madness and yet it was very delicious. What could a blue silk dress -avail when at any moment she was likely to be cast adrift? That thought -hit hard as she sauntered slowly along the Street of Streets gazing -wistfully upon its long array of too-fascinating drapers’ windows. - -Her store of worldly wealth was nineteen pounds and a few odd -shillings. It was as certain as anything could be that she was about to -enter upon the most critical period of her life, and this was all she -had to tide her over. But do what she would to act like a reasonable -being she was now at the mercy of a demon more powerful than common -prudence. She was haunted by a passion for a blue silk dress and no -matter what happened to her afterwards she must satisfy that craving. - -It was a rather thrilling business to rake these forbidden windows in -quest of a thing it was sheer madness to buy, yet within one’s power to -do so. Why was she going to buy it? Because she wanted it so badly? Why -did she want it so badly? That was a question she could not answer. - -Had she been really pretty this folly might have seemed less amazing. -But she knew she was plain. At least, she always felt and always passed -for plain at Blackhampton. But her pilgrimage along Oxford Street -which, in the middle of a bright afternoon of early October, seemed the -Mecca of fashion, beauty and good taste went some way to change the -attitude she had taken up in regard to her personal appearance. - -Plain she might be, her clothes might be severely provincial, their -hue depressing, but she was clearly informed by the sixth sense given -to Woman that she was not wholly unlooked at. It was nice to feel that -such was the case; indeed, it was stimulating, yet so deeply was she -occupied just then with large affairs that she didn’t think much about -it. - -After many windows she had seen, she found herself drifting with the -tide into a store of regal aspect. Here she was received by young -women, elegant and gracious, with a courteous charm that made a search -for five yards of blue silk fabric in its least expensive form a -perfectly simple and yet delightful adventure. Moreover, it brought -in its train a great idea. Was it necessary, after all, that domestic -servitude should be her lot? Might it not be possible to become one of -these smart and pleasant ladies in their very attractive clothes? - -Expenditure of spirit, anxious care, went to the final purchase of four -and a half yards of cotton silk material, more cotton than silk, at -eight and elevenpence three farthings a yard; and then the new thought -gained such a hold upon her, that before leaving the store she took an -inventory of her person in one of the huge mirrors which made the place -so enchanting. Standing boldly in front of the great glass, surveying -herself with a curiosity that was half fear, she went over her “points” -as might an Eastern merchant who buys a slave. - -She was taller than she supposed. That was thought the first. And if -she wore shoes with high heels, as so many girls did, she could look -still taller. She could pass for slender, that was her second thought; -and her chest was something to be proud of. She might not have much -in the way of grace, and she might lack style, yet she didn’t lack -dignity. Her features were irregular, and there was no denying their -freckles, but seeing her frontispiece this afternoon, with its fighting -chin and determined eyes, the full effect was rather striking. But -when all was said it was her hair that was important. This she had -always known, but in the strong and subtle lights of the best mirror -into which she had ever gazed, it ministered considerably to the sum -and total of her charms. Perhaps her friend, Mr. Boultby the druggist, -had not overshot the mark when he compared her hair to the Empress -Eugenie’s, and said it ought to be painted by an R. A. - -A mop of russet gold hair was little enough for a girl who stood in her -particular shoes. She felt that as she gazed upon it; felt it besides -with something akin to resentment. But even a self-criticism, cool and -stern, must allow that she made a better showing in Mr. Selfridge’s -mirror than could have been expected. She was far from being beautiful, -but that hair in its subtle-tinted abundance saved her somehow from -being ordinary. And to-day she looked very much alive with the bloom of -youth and health. - -Four and a half yards of blue material under her arm, she went out -into Oxford Street, feeling rather better equipped for the battle of -life. She drew back a pair of shoulders that were really not so bad, -and defiantly lifted a chin that had looked uncommonly square in the -mirror. It was good to feel that she had underrated herself. She must -learn to dress in the London way, and then she might be able to hold -her own. - -Walking slowly back to Oxford Circus, head higher now, she began quite -to like this new idea of becoming a shop assistant. At the worst, it -would be a far easier and more dignified way of life than domestic -service. So much was she engaged by it, and so great the pressure of -her thoughts that at first she didn’t notice that a man was following -her. - -The knowledge overtook her by degrees. Stopping to look in various -windows, each time she did so brought a vague feeling that the eyes of -a man were upon her. She crossed the Circus, but the feeling was still -there; and at the corner of Berners Street, without quite knowing how, -surmise entered the region of fact. Moreover, she even contrived to -learn the style of man he was. - -Out of the tail of an eye, as she stood by the edge of the kerb, she -saw that he was pale and dark, neither short nor tall, that he had -a slight moustache, and wore a hat of peach coloured velours. His -presence gave her an odd feeling; in fact, it might be said to frighten -her just a little, although there was certainly no reason why it should -in broad daylight. But she had an idea that he was going to speak to -her and that he was seeking an opportunity to do so. - -Hastily she moved on, determined to give further shop windows “a miss” -for the present. However, she had not gone far when it occurred to -her that she was in need of a cup of tea, and that it would be very -pleasant to have one. - -Just across the road was an A. B. C. shop. The fear of pursuit still -upon her, the sudden dash she made for this bourn was so ill-timed that -her sovereign faculty of keeping her head in a crisis was needed to -save her from being run over by Bus 13, which was going to the “Bell” -at Hendon. - -With quite a sense of adventure, she went to one of a row of vacant -tables at the far end of the shop. She ordered a small pot of tea, a -scone and a pat of butter. And then she realized that a pale, dark man, -neither short nor tall, with a slight moustache, and wearing a hat of -peach-coloured velours had followed her in, and was just about to take -a seat at the table next her own. - - - - -XX - - -JUNE was not a timid girl. She had no lack of courage; and -now that a chance had been given her to reason things out, a feeling -akin to fear promptly yielded to mere annoyance. And even that emotion -took wings when she had had time to glance at the hat of peach-coloured -velours. Its owner looked harmless enough. He was a man of thirty, -or perhaps a little more; he wore a well-cut black jacket, a pair of -rather baggy trousers of a light grey check, a silk collar, a flowing -bow tie, a diamond ring on the little finger of the left hand. The -general effect of what to June was a decidedly interesting personality -was somehow to fulfil her preconceived idea of an artist. - -As soon as the man felt the gaze of June upon him, he swept off the hat -of peach-coloured velours with a gesture at once easy and graceful, -fortified it with a smile at which it would have been impossible to -take offence, and said with a slight lisp, - -“Miss Graham?” - -“I am not Miss Graham,” said June calmly. She always prided herself -upon her self-possession. Just now it seemed to help her considerably. - -The man carried off his question with such an air of tact that it must -have ranked as a bona fide mistake had not June been aware that he had -crossed the road and followed her into the shop. Rather strangely, as -soon as he took it upon himself to speak to her, the lingering sense of -vexation gave way to curiosity. The mere look of the man had the power -to excite an immediate interest, but June was careful to keep strictly -upon her guard. - -He ordered a bottle of ginger beer, and when the waitress had gone for -it, he turned to June and said, with the companionable air of an old -friend: “It’s funny, but you are exactly like a girl I used to know.” - -“Why funny?” asked June bluntly. - -The nature of the question, and the look of June’s keen eye made the -man smile a little. Evidently she was a bit of a character. It appeared -to stimulate him. - -“It’s always funny when you mistake someone for someone else.” - -“Is it?” said June, warily. - -“Don’t you agree,” he said, with a laugh that sounded decidedly -pleasant. - -“It’s a thing I should never think of doing myself.” - -“You are lucky.” He was amused by her bluntness. “I wish I had your -good memory.” - -The tea arrived, and June poured it out in a spirit of thankfulness. As -soon as she had drunk half a cup, which was reviving, she forgot all -about her annoyance in a new feeling of exhilaration tempered by quiet -amusement. - -“You are most remarkably like a Scotch girl I used to know in Paris,” -said the man, taking up the thread of conversation, after having drunk -a little, a very little, ginger beer. - -“Am I?” said June, coolly. - -“She was an artist’s model. Sometimes she used to sit for me.” - -“Are you an artist?” said June, allowing herself to become interested, -for the reason perhaps that she simply could not help it. - -“Of sorts,” was the answer. “I studied several years in Paris before -the war.” - -From the moment he had sat down at the next table and June had been -able to get a clear view of him she had somehow known that art was his -calling. He looked an artist so emphatically that there would have -been something fatally wrong with the cosmos had he turned out to be -anything else. - -In spite of a determination to be cautious indeed, she was not equal to -the task of repressing an ever growing curiosity. Art had lately come -to have a magic meaning for her. - -“What kind of pictures do you paint?” - -“Portraits and the figure chiefly.” - -“Do you ever paint landscapes?” - -“They are not quite my line of country,” said the man. “Portraits and -the figure are what I go for as a rule. I am looking for a model now. -Would you like to sit to me?” - -“I don’t know.” June spoke doubtfully. “I don’t think I could.” - -“Haven’t you ever sat?” - -“No, I haven’t.” - -“Time you began. You are just the sort of girl.” - -“Why am I?” - -“For one thing you have personality.” - -This was a surprising and rather thrilling corroboration of Mr. -Boultby. At the back of her mind the old druggist had always figured -as “a bit of a gasbag” with a ready flow of conversation and a gift of -easy compliment. But it would seem that this estimate did him less than -justice. Mr. Boultby was better informed than she had thought. And at -this moment a phrase he had used came back to her with a force that was -a little startling. “A girl as good-looking as you can always get a -living,” Mr. Boultby had once said. - -“I suppose you mean my hair?” said June naïvely. - -He showed two rows of very white and level teeth in a smile which -piqued her curiosity. - -“Partly your hair, and partly your figure,” he said, taking a second -tiny sip of ginger beer. “Why not come and try? I have a studio in -Haliburton Street, just out of Manning Square.” - -June shook a doubtful head. She then gave a glance sideways at -the imbiber of the ginger beer. Her knowledge of the world was -slender, but she was not a fool, and there was something about this -“forthcomingness” which even exceeded that of Mr. Boultby himself, that -warned her to be careful. - -“You’d be well paid, of course.” - -“How much?” June had no false modesty when it came to a question of -money. This was an aspect of the matter that had not struck her until -then. - -“I’d pay you five shillings an hour,” he said lightly. “And ten for the -altogether.” - -June’s heart gave a leap. To a girl in her position it was a -princely reward. Such an offer seemed most tempting. But a moment’s -consideration of the issues it raised brought on a sudden fit of -shyness. - -“I don’t think I could,” she said. - -“Why not?” The eyes of the man were now fixed intently upon her face. - -“Oh, I don’t----” - -“Not enough, eh?” - -She felt his eyes so forcibly upon her that she coloured hotly. - -“It isn’t that.” - -“What’s your reason then?” - -“I’ve not been used to that sort of thing.” - -He smiled broadly. - -“It’s only a matter of keeping still. Of course, I shall not press you -to sit for ‘the altogether’ if you had rather not.” - -“The altogether” was Greek to June. - -However, she did not confess her ignorance, but was content to make a -mental note to ask William what it meant. And at the moment she did so -the thought of William brought the Van Roon to her mind. - -“I suppose you know a lot about pictures?” An idea was forming already -in that practical head. - -“Perhaps I know as much about them as some people,” said the man, -beginning to roll a cigarette. June could not help feeling that his -answer was in piquant contrast to what William’s would have been had -such a question been put to him. It had a self-complacency which even -if it implied deep knowledge was also open to criticism. - -“What do you think a Van Roon would be worth?” - -“A Van Roon!” he said, offhandedly. “Well, you know, that might depend -on many things.” - -“They are very valuable, I suppose,” said June, trying to look innocent. - -“Very valuable indeed, at the present time. Privately, I think they -are overrated. The Flemish School is being run to death, but of course, -that’s only my opinion.” - -“Would it be worth a hundred pounds?” - -“What! A Van Roon!” The man laughed. “My good girl, you might multiply -a hundred pounds by a hundred, and then think you had got ‘some’ -bargain if you found yourself the owner of a Van Roon.” - -“This mightn’t be a good one.” June spoke cautiously. She saw at once -that it would be wise “to go slow.” - -“All Van Roons are good, you know. But some, of course, are a bit -better than others.” - -“I’ve been told it is one of the best,” said June, after a moment’s -deliberation. - -“Which are you talking about? The one in the National Gallery, I -suppose. That’s the only Van Roon in this country. The Americans have -robbed us of three within the last ten years.” - -“Yes, I’ve heard so,” said June, with a wise air. - -“In my humble opinion, it can’t be compared with the chap in the -Louvre, and they say that its stable companion, which was cut out of -its frame back in the Nineties, and has never been found, is even -finer.” - -“Still you think it’s very valuable?” - -“The one in the National Gallery? Sure! It wouldn’t be there, you -know, if it wasn’t. The Flemish School is booming these days, and Van -Roon is the pick of the bunch, and the least prolific. Tell me,” the -man’s small and rather furtive eyes began to twinkle, “why are you so -interested in Van Roons? Is it, by any chance, that you’ve got one for -sale?” And he laughed very softly and gently at what he evidently -considered a rich joke. - -June looked at him gravely. - -“It so happens that I have!” she said with a caution which seemed to -give the value of drama to a simple announcement. - - - - -XXI - - -ADOLPH KELLER was the man’s name. And as June was to learn -later, he had never felt more amused in his life. It was really a jest -that he should follow a countrified-looking girl into a teashop, get -into conversation with her, and then be quietly told that she had a -Van Roon to sell. There was something rather pathetic in a girl of her -class making such a statement. All she could mean was that somehow she -had got hold of a more or less “dud” copy of “Sun and Cloud,” that much -lithographed work in the National Gallery which in consequence was now -familiar to the big public. - -“So you’ve got a Van Roon for sale, have you?” said Adolph Keller, who -was hardly able to keep from laughing outright. “Good for you! What’s -the size of it?” - -“Sixteen inches by twelve,” said June, with the patness of one who -prided herself, and with reason, upon a most excellent memory. - -“Without the frame?” - -June nodded. - -“Yes, that’s about the size,” said Keller. “It’s called ‘Sun and -Cloud,’ I suppose?” - -“It’s not called anything at present,” said June, “as far as I know, -although sun and cloud are in it.” - -“Bound to be--if it’s a Van Roon.” - -“And there are trees as well.” - -“Trees, are there? A copy of the one in the National Gallery, I expect. -Is there a windmill in the left hand corner?” - -There was no windmill in the left hand corner, June declared with -confidence. She remembered that at first William had thought there was, -but had changed his opinion later. - -“Then that washes out the National Gallery. I dare say it’s a copy of -‘L’Automne’ in the Louvre. By the way, how did you come by it?” - -“It was given to me by a gentleman, a friend of mine,” said June, after -a moment for reflection. - -“A very good friend, too.” The tone of the laugh had a little too much -banter to be pleasant. “Isn’t everybody, you know, who gives a Van Roon -to his best girl? A bit of a plutocrat evidently.” - -June didn’t know what a plutocrat was, but she was too proud to say so. -She made a mental note to look up the word in the dictionary. - -“How did your rich friend come by it? Do you happen to know?” - -“He isn’t rich,” said June, with a wish for perfect honesty. “He found -it in a shop.” - -“Where was the shop?” - -“It was at a place called Crowdham Market.” - -“Down in Suffolk. Sounds a funny place to find a Van Roon.” - -“It was ever so dirty when it was found. And another picture seemed to -have been painted on the top of it.” - -“Queer.” The eyes of Adolph Keller narrowed in their intentness. “Who -told you it was a Van Roon?” - -“The man who gave it to me.” - -“Who told him?” - -“He found the signature.” June’s quiet precision owed something to the -fact that she was now fully and rather deliciously aware of the effect -she was making. - -“What!... The signature of Mynheer Van Roon?” - -“Yes,” said June. - -The incredulity of Keller had yielded now to a powerful curiosity. He -looked at June with a keenness he tried hard to veil. This was a very -unlikely story, yet he knew enough of life to appreciate the fact that -mere unlikelihood is no reason why a story should not be true. Besides, -this girl had such an ingenuous air that it was impossible to believe -her tale was a deliberate invention. At the same time, it had elements -which were particularly hard to swallow. - -“Why was the picture given to you?” - -“I asked for it,” said June, whose simple honesty now involved a -tell-tale blush. - -Mr. Keller looked her steadily in the eye, and then he laughed, but not -unsympathetically. - -“Your best boy, I suppose, and he could deny you nothing.” - -“That’s it,” said June awkwardly. This audacious irony was new to her, -and she did not know how to meet it. - -“By the way, what is this young chap of yours? An artist?” - -“Yes,” said June. “I suppose he is--in a way. He studies art and -renovates pictures, and he knows a lot about them.” - -“Not so much as he thinks,” said Adolph Keller, “else he would not -be such a fool as to give away a Van Roon, even to a girl as nice and -pretty as you are.” - -He had lowered his voice to a whisper of rare sweetness and carrying -power. There was something about him that was powerfully attractive; -at the same time, a look had crept into a pair of rather furtive eyes -which was oddly repellent. - -“Do you say you really have this picture in your possession?” -His intentness when he put this question made June feel a little -uncomfortable. - -“Yes, it has been given to me.” - -“Could you let me see it?” - -June hesitated. - -“I think I could,” she said, after a pause. - -“Well, suppose you bring it round to my studio for me to look at?” - -Again June hesitated. - -“As you like, of course,” said Keller, carelessly. “I was only thinking -it might be worth your while, that’s all. You see, I happen to know one -or two dealers and people, and I might be able to find out for you just -what it’s worth.” - -June saw the force of this. She was in desperate straits, and this man -had the appearance of a friend in need. - -“Perhaps I will,” she said. - -“Very well,” said the man. “When will you come?” - -For a moment June thought hard. “I couldn’t come before Thursday.” - -“The day after to-morrow--that’ll suit me. What time?” - -June continued to think hard. “It would have to be between three and -four.” She spoke with slow reluctance. “That’s the only time I can -really get away.” - -“All right,” said the man, briskly. “You’ll find me at the Haliburton -Street Studios up till five o’clock on Thursday. Number Four. Give a -good ring; the bell is a bit out of gear. My name is Keller. Can you -remember it, or shall I write it down for you, with the address?” - -“Write them down for me, please.” - -The man tore a leaf from a pocket book, and wrote his name and address -with a fountain pen: Adolph Keller, 4 Haliburton Street Studios, -Manning Square, Soho. When he had done this, and given it to her, -he tore out another leaf and asked her to write down hers. This she -accordingly did, and then the sudden thought of William’s tea caused -her to rise abruptly. - -Mr. Keller wished to pay her bill, which was five-pence, but she -declined to let him. - -“Au revoir! Thursday afternoon. Manning Square is only about three -minutes from here. Don’t forget,” were the words with which he took -leave of her. “Bring it along. I dare say I’ll be able to tell you -whether it is genuine, and perhaps give you an idea of its value.” - -He laughed slightly, and then offered his hand in a very friendly -manner. She took it with a reluctance she was rather ashamed of -showing. He was so kind, so agreeable, so anxious to be of use that -there seemed no warrant for the subtle complexity of feeling he had -aroused in her. - - - - -XXII - - -JUNE’S way home to New Cross Street was beset with anxieties. -Much would depend on what she did now. She felt that her whole life -was about to turn on the decision she had to take in a very difficult -matter. - -There was no one to guide her, not a soul on whose advice she might -lean. But before she had returned to the threshold of S. Gedge Antiques -she had made a resolve to get immediate possession of the picture, and -to let this Mr. Keller have a look at it. She did not altogether like -him, it was true. But the feeling was irrational; she must be sensible -enough not to let it set her against him without due cause. For he was -a friend whom Providence had unmistakably thrown in her way, and there -was no other to whom she might turn. - -William was a broken reed. With all his perception and talent, he -was likely to prove hopeless now that Uncle Si was setting his wits -to work to obtain the picture for himself. William’s devotion to his -master’s interest would be simply fatal to her scheme. For the sake of -them both, June felt she must take a full advantage of the heaven-sent -opportunity provided by this Mr. Keller. - -Other decisions, too, would have to be made. As soon as Uncle Si knew -the picture was hers, he would almost certainly carry out his threat -of putting her in the street; at least she was no judge of character -if the event proved otherwise. A means of livelihood must be sought -at once. That afternoon’s experience of Oxford Street had opened up -new vistas, which, however, might lead nowhere. But even if she could -not get employment in a shop Mr. Keller’s offer of work as an artist’s -model at five shillings an hour must not be lightly put aside. - -The first thing to be done, however, was to clinch William’s gift of -the picture once and for all. She made up her mind that it should be -fully consummated before the return of Uncle Si from Newbury. - -As soon as William had been given his tea she broached the subject. But -when she asked for possession, there and then, his crest fell. - -“I was still hoping, Miss June,” the simpleton owned, “that you’d let -the dear old master have this lovely thing. It has come to mean so much -to him, you see. I will get another one for you.” - -“Not another Van Roon,” said June, sharply. - -“No, I’m afraid I couldn’t promise a Van Roon.” A cloud passed over -William’s face. “But I might be able to pick up something quite good, -which perhaps you would come to like as much.” - -June shook a disconsolate head. - -“I don’t think,” she said, in a slow voice, as she fixed her eyes on -the wall in front of her, “there is another picture in the world I -should value so much as that one. I simply love that picture.” - -William was troubled. - -“The old master loves it, too.” - -“But you gave it me, you know.” June was painfully conscious of a swift -deepening of colour. - -The plain fact was not denied. - -“You mustn’t think me very hard and grasping if I hold you to the -bargain.” - -“No, Miss June. If you insist, of course the picture is yours.” - -“To do with just as I like.” - -“Why yes, certainly.” - -June proceeded to take the bull by the horns. “Very well,” she said. -“After supper, I shall ask you to hand it over to me, and I will put it -in a place of safety.” - -William sighed heavily. He seemed almost upon the verge of tears. June -simply loathed the part she was playing. The only consolation was that -she was acting quite as much in his interest as in her own. - -Uncle Si came in shortly before eight. He sat down to supper in quite a -good humour. For once the old man was in high conversational feather. - -It was clear that his mind was still full of the picture. Without -subscribing for one moment to William’s preposterous theory that the -thing was a genuine Van Roon, he had had a further talk on the matter -with his friend, Mr. Thornton, with whom he had travelled down to -Newbury; and, he had arranged with that gentleman to bring his friend, -Monsieur Duponnet, the famous Paris expert who was now in London, -to come and look at it on Thursday afternoon. Monsieur Duponnet who -knew more about Van Roon than anybody living, and had had several -pass through his hands in the last ten years, would be able to say -positively whether William was wrong, and S. Gedge Antiques was right, -or with a devout gesture for which June longed to pull his ugly nose, -vice versâ. - -The time had now come for June to show her hand. Very quietly indeed -her bolt was launched. William had given the picture to her. - -The old man simply stared at her. - -It was clear, however, that his thoughts were running so hard upon M. -Duponnet and the higher potentialities that just at first he was not -able to grasp the significance of June’s bald statement. - -So that there should be no doubt about the position June modestly -repeated it. - -“Given it to you!” said the old man, a light beginning to break. “How -do you mean--given it to you?” - -Calmly, patiently June threw a little more light on the subject. And -while she did so her eyes were fixed with veiled defiance upon the face -of Uncle Si. The thought uppermost in her mind was that he took it far -better than could have been expected. “Given it to you,” he kept on -saying to himself softly. There was no explosion. “Given it to you,” he -kept on. He grew a little green about the gills and that was all. - -At last he turned to William: “Boy, what’s this? Is the girl daft?” The -mildness of tone was astonishing. - -William explained as well as he could. It was a lame and halting -performance, and at that moment June was not proud of him. But she -was even less proud of herself. The part she was playing, gloss it -over as one might, was ignoble. And William’s embarrassment was rather -painful to witness. He stammered a good deal, he grew red and nervous; -and all the while the voice of his kind and good master became more -deeply reproachful, and melted finally in a note of real pathos. -“How could you do such a thing?” he said. “Why you know as well as I -do, my boy, that I would have given you anything in reason for that -picture--anything in reason.” And there he sat at his supper, the very -image of outraged benevolence and enthusiasm, a Christian with a halo! - -“Old Serpent” said the fierce eyes that June fixed upon his face. For a -moment it looked as if the old wretch was going to shed tears. But no, -he was content with a mild snuffle and that was all. - - - - -XXIII - - -BY bedtime, when June went to her attic, she had fully made -up her mind that there must be no half measures now. She feared Uncle -Si more than ever. There was something in that snuffle at the supper -table, in that whine of outraged feeling, in that down-gazing eye which -was far more formidable than any mere outburst of violence. Here was -such a depth of hypocrisy that she had got to look out. - -A light was showing under the studio door. June’s knock met with a -prompt invitation to enter. William was affectionately lingering over a -few final touches, which should prove beyond a doubt the authenticity -of this masterpiece. - -“Have you got it really clean at last?” said June, trying to speak -lightly, yet not succeeding. Emotional strain could not be so easily -concealed; and--uncomfortable thought--her acting was not so finished -as that of Uncle Si. - -“Yes,” said William, with a little thrill of rapture. “And how -wonderful it is!” - -June agreed. “Yes, wonderful!” Also with a little thrill of rapture, -yet loathing herself because her tone was so vibrant--Uncle Si was not -to have a walk over after all! “And now if you don’t mind I’ll put it -in a place of safety.” - -He flashed one swift glance at her. “But, Miss June, isn’t it quite -safe here?” - -“I should just think it wasn’t!” leapt to the tip of her tongue. But -Uncle Si’s masterly snuffle recalled to her mind the value of meiosis. -Thus she had recourse to a gentle “I think I’ll sleep better if I take -care of it myself,” which sounded quite disarming. - -With one of his deep sighs which made her feel a perfect beast, William -handed over the picture. “If you only knew, if you could only guess -what pleasure this exquisite thing would give the dear old master----” - -Overcome by a kind of nausea, June fled headlong to the room next door. -She groped for her candle, found and lit it; and then she proceeded to -bury the treasure at the bottom of her trunk. Heaping and pressing down -as many things upon the picture as the trunk would hold, she locked it -carefully, and put the key in her purse. Then she undressed, knelt and -said her prayers; she then blew out the candle and crept into bed with -a stifling sense of disgust, tempered by grim satisfaction. - - - - -XXIV - - -NEXT morning at the breakfast table, June looked for developments. -To her surprise, however, things went their accustomed way, except -that if anything Uncle Si was a little more amiable than usual. -He made no reference to the Van Roon; but it was referred to in -his manner, inasmuch that he bore bacon and coffee to his lips with -the air of a known good man deeply wounded in his private feelings. -Not a feather of this by-play was lost upon his niece; and no doubt -what was of more importance, it was not lost upon William. But its -impact was very different in the two cases. While June simply longed -to hit the Old Crocodile upon his long and wicked nose, William seemed -hard set to refrain from tears. - -About midday, however, while June was in the back kitchen preparing a -meal, Uncle Si came to her. - -“Niece,” he said, in the new voice, whose softness June found so -formidable, “you remember the other day I told you to look for a job?” - -June nodded. - -“Have you got one?” - -“No, I haven’t.” - -“Well, Mrs. R. is coming back on Monday, so the sooner you get fixed -up the better. Your best plan, I think, is to go this afternoon and -have your name put down at a registry office as a cook-general. -Cook-generals earn good money, and they live all found. Your cooking -won’t be the Carlton or the Ritz, of course”--a gleam of frosty humour -played upon that subtle face--“but you seem strong and willing, and you -know how to boil a potato, and no doubt you’ll improve with experience.” - -June was inclined to curtsey. The old wretch plainly felt that he was -giving her a handsome testimonial. But at the back of her mind was -anger and contempt, and it was as much as she could do to prevent their -peeping out. - -After dinner, as soon as the table was clear, and the pots washed, she -proceeded to take Uncle Si at his word. She decided to go out at once -and look for a place which, however, except as a last resort, should -not be domestic service. To begin with, she would try the shops, or -perhaps the dressmakers, as her mother always said she was handy with -her needle; or, failing these, she might consider the exciting proposal -of becoming an artist’s model. - -Fixing her hat before the crazy looking glass the thought of Mr. Keller -recurred to her mind. Had the day only been Thursday she could have -taken the picture to him there and then, and had his opinion upon -it. Not that such a course would have been altogether wise. She knew -nothing about this new and rather mysterious acquaintance, beyond the -fact that if speech and manner meant anything he was a gentleman. -Certainly, to talk to he was most agreeable. - -Before setting out on her pilgrimage, she had to make up her mind as to -whether it would not be advisable to take the Van Roon with her, and -put it in a place of safety. So long as it remained under that roof -it was in jeopardy. Uncle Si was not to be trusted an inch. The fact, -however, that she had nowhere to take the treasure decided her finally -to let it stay where it was until the next day. - -Anyway, it was under lock and key. That was something to be thankful -for; yet as she came downstairs and passed through the shop into New -Cross Street, drawing on her neat black gloves with a sinking heart, -instinct told her that she was taking a grave risk in leaving the -picture behind. - -No, S. Gedge Antiques was not to be trusted for a moment. Of that she -was quite sure. By the time she had gone twenty yards along the street -this feeling of insecurity took such a hold upon her that she stopped -abruptly, and faced about. To go back? Or not to go back? Indecision -was unlike her, but never was it so hard to make up her mind. Could -it be that Uncle Si was as wicked as she thought? Perhaps she had now -become the prey of her own guilty conscience. In any case, she knew of -nowhere just then in which to place the precious thing; and this fact -it was that turned the scale and finally settled the question. - -She went down to the Strand, and took a bus to Oxford Circus. That -Mecca, alas, did not prove nearly so stimulating as the previous -afternoon. As soon as she came really to grips with that most daunting -of all tasks, “the looking for a job,” her hopes and her courage were -woefully dashed. Real pluck was needed to enter such a palace as David -Jones Limited, to go up without faltering to some haughty overseer in a -frock coat and spats and ask if an assistant was wanted. - -Three times, in various shops, she screwed herself to the heroic pitch -of asking that difficult question. Three times she met with a chilling -response. And the only gleam of hope was on the last occasion. - -“There is one vacancy, I believe,” said Olympian Zeus. “But all -applicants must apply by letter for a personal interview with the -manager.” - -Sooner than renew the attempt just then, June felt she would prefer to -die. A girl from the provinces, new to London and its ways, without -credentials or friends, or knowledge of “the ropes” must not expect to -be taken on, at any rate in Oxford Street. - -Much cast down she returned to her teashop of yesterday. Seated at the -same table, her mind went back to the fascinating acquaintance she had -made there. Was it possible that a career had been offered her? Or was -the suggestion of this new friend merely the outcome of a keen interest -in the picture? - -It could not be so entirely, because she clearly remembered that Mr. -Keller had proposed her sitting to him as a model before she had -mentioned the picture at all. - -She went back to New Cross Street in a state of gloom; her mind was -dominated by a sense of being “up against it.” And this unhappy feeling -was not softened by the discovery she made as soon as she entered that -cold and uninviting garret. In her absence the lock of her trunk had -been forced and the picture taken away. - -The tragedy was exactly what she had foreseen. But faced by the bitter -fact she was swept by a tempest of rage. It could only be the work of -one person. Her fear and dislike of Uncle Si rose to hatred now. - -In a surge of anger she went downstairs and in the presence of William -charged Uncle Si. - -“You’ve been at my box,” she stormed. - -He looked at her with a kind of calm pensiveness over the top of his -spectacles. - -“If you lock away things, my girl, that don’t belong to you, I’m afraid -you’ll have to stand the racket.” So lofty, so severe was the old man’s -tone that for the moment June was staggered. - -“It’s stealing,” she cried, returning hectic to the attack. - -Uncle Si waggled a magisterial finger in her face. “Niece,” he said, -with a quietude which put her at a disadvantage, “I must ask you not to -make an exhibition of yourself. Have the goodness to hold your tongue.” - -June maintained the charge. “The picture’s mine. William gave it me. -You’ve broken open my box and stolen it.” - -S. Gedge Antiques, after a mild side glance in the direction of -William, proceeded to fix a glacial eye upon his niece. “What I have -to say is this.” His tone was more magisterial than ever. “At present, -my girl, you are under age, and as long as you live with me the law -regards me as your guardian. And, as I have told William already, in -my opinion you are not a fit and proper person to have the care of a -thing so valuable as this picture may prove to be. Mind you,”--the -old fox gave William a meaningful look--“I don’t go so far as to say -that it _is_ valuable, but I say that it _might_ be. And, in -that case, I can’t allow a mere ignorant girl from the country who, in -a manner of speaking, doesn’t know the letter A from a pig’s foot to -accept it from you, my boy. It’s very generous of you, and I hope she’s -thanked you properly, but if I allow her to take it, some unscrupulous -dealer is sure to bamboozle her out of it. That’s assuming it’s -valuable, which, of course, I don’t go so far as to say that it is.” - -“Thief!” stormed June. “Wicked thief!” - -However, she knew well enough that it was a real pity to let her -feelings get the better of her; it enabled the Old Crocodile to -shine so much by comparison. He addressed himself to William in his -most sanctimonious manner. For the good of all concerned, such a -bee-yew-ti-ful thing--it sickened June to see the old humbug lift his -eyes to heaven--must be cared for by him personally. An uneducated -mawkin could not hope to appreciate a work of art of that quality, and -if anything happened to it, as in such hands something inevitably must, -William’s master would never be able to forgive himself, he wouldn’t -really! - -The old man spoke so gently and so plausibly and hovered at times so -near to tears, that William would have been less than human not to -have been moved by his words. Uncle Si had not the least difficulty -in making clear to his assistant that he was swayed by the highest -motives. His own private regard for the picture, which, of course, -William must know was intense, did not enter into the case at all; but -wisdom and experience declared that until Monsieur Duponnet of Paris -had seen the picture it must remain in responsible hands. - -“But I tell you the picture’s mine, mine, mine!” cried June. - -No, the picture was William’s. That outstanding fact was emphasized -again in his master’s kindly voice. Was he not William’s guardian also -in the eyes of the law? Not for a moment could he think of allowing -the young man in a fit of weak generosity to give away a thing that -might prove to be a real work of art. - -June was a little disappointed by William’s attitude in the matter. -The way in which he submitted to Uncle Si did him no credit. Surely -the picture was his to do with as he chose; yet to judge by Uncle Si’s -handling of the affair the young man had no right to dispose of it. -June deplored this lack of spirit. He should have fought for his own. -At the same time, her mind was tormented by the unpleasant thought that -he really wanted to revoke his gift. - -The more she considered the position, the less she liked it. She could -not rid herself of a feeling that she was playing an unworthy part. -It was all very well to regard her actions as strictly in William’s -interest. But were they? She was haunted by a sense of having descended -perilously near to the level of Uncle Si himself. - -Anyhow, she had tried her best to outwit S. Gedge Antiques. And he -had outwitted her. There was no disguising it. Both were playing the -same game, the same crooked game, and it seemed that Uncle Si, as was -only to be expected, was able to play it much better than could she. -The artful old fox had bested her with her own weapons. Were they not -equally unscrupulous? Was not William the toy of both? - - - - -XXV - - -IN the course of the next morning, June was informed by Uncle -Si, with his most sanctimonious air that “he could not pass over her -impudence, and that she had better pack her box and go.” Moreover, that -force might be lent to this ukase, he sternly summoned William from the -lumber room, and ordered the young man to help her down with her box as -soon as it was ready; and then he must fetch her a cab. - -This was more than June had bargained for. She was expecting to be -kicked out; but she had not looked for the process to be quite so -summary. It did not suit her plans at all. - -“Get a room for yourself in a decent neighbourhood,” said the old man. -“Mrs. Runciman will know of one, no doubt. You’ve money enough to keep -you while you look for work.” - -June’s swift mind, however, saw instant disadvantages. Secretly, she -cherished the hope, a slender one, no doubt, of being able to discover -where the picture was hid. Once, however, she left the house that -hope would vanish. And it was painfully clear that it was Uncle Si’s -recognition of this fact which now made him so determined to be quit of -her. - -The old serpent was fully alive to what lay at the back of her mind. He -knew that so long as she slept under his roof the picture could never -be safe. - -She was shrewd enough to size up the position at once. Reading the -purpose in the heart of Uncle Si she told him plainly that much as she -disliked her present address she did not propose to change it until her -lawful property had been restored to her. - -“You are going to leave this place within an hour, my girl, for good -and all.” - -“I shall not,” said June flatly. “Until you give me the picture, I -don’t intend to stir.” - -“The picture is not yours. You are not a fit person to have it. And if -you don’t go quietly your box will be put into the street.” - -“Dare to touch my box again, and I shall go straight to the police.” - -Uncle Si didn’t care a straw for the police. She had not the slightest -claim upon him; in fact she was living on his charity. As for the -picture, it had nothing whatever to do with the matter. - -At this point it was that William came out in his true colours. He -had been standing by, unwilling witness of these passages. Anxiously -concerned, he could no longer keep silent. - -“Beg your pardon, sir,” he said, stammering painfully, and flushing -deeply, “but if Miss June leaves the house, I’m afraid I’ll have to go -as well.” - -This was a thunderbolt. S. Gedge Antiques opened his mouth in wide -astonishment. He gasped like a carp. The atmospheric displacement was -terrific. Slowly the old man took off his “selling” spectacles, and -replaced them with his “buying” ones. Certainly the effect was to make -him look a shade less truculent, but at the moment there was no other -result. “Boy, don’t talk like a fool,” was all he could say. - -William, however, was not to be moved. He never found it easy to make -up his mind; for him to reach a decision in things that mattered was a -slow and trying process. But the task achieved it was for good or ill. -His stammers and blushes were a little ludicrous, he seemed near to -tears, but the open hostility of his master could not turn him an inch. - -“Never in my born days did I hear the like.” S. Gedge Antiques seethed -like a vipers’ nest. “Boy, you ought to be bled for the simples to let -a paltry hussy get round you in this way.” - -“Give me the picture, Uncle Si,” cried the paltry hussy, with a force -that made him blink, “and I’ll take precious good care you don’t see me -again.” - -The old man whinnied with rage. But he had not the least intention of -giving up the picture; nor had he the least intention of giving up -that which was almost as valuable, the services of his right-hand man. -William was irreplaceable. And the instant his master realised that -this odd fellow was very much in earnest, he saw that there was only -one line to take. He must temporize. With all the tact he could muster, -and on occasion the old man could muster a good deal, the Old Crocodile -proceeded to do so. - -The “firing” of his niece should stand in abeyance for the time being. -He gave solemn warning, however, that she must get a job right away, -as his mind was quite made up that he was not going to find house room -for the likes of her an hour longer than he could help. As for the boy, -of whom he had always held such a high opinion ever since the day he -had first picked him out of the gutter and upon whom he had lavished a -father’s kindness, he was really quite at a loss--with a snuffle of -heart-melting pathos--to know how to put his deeply wounded feelings -into words. - -For June, all the same, the upshot was victory. The inevitable packing -of her box could be postponed to her own good time. But well she knew -that the reprieve was due to William and to him alone. It was his -splendidly timed intervention that had enabled her to win the day. - -The previous evening harsh thoughts of the Sawney had crept into her -heart. After giving her the picture, surely it was his duty to take -a stronger line upon the rape of it. But that phase of weakness was -forgotten now. He had come out nobly. At a most critical moment he had -fought her battle; and he had fought it with magical effect. - -All was forgiven. He was O. K. - - - - -XXVI - - -JUNE was dominated now by a single thought. By hook or by -crook she must get back the picture before she left that house. If she -failed to do so, she would never see it again, and there would be an -end of all her hopes. Exactly what these hopes were she did not venture -to ask herself; in any case, they would not have been easy to put into -words. But she felt in a vague way that William’s future and her own -were bound up in them. - -It was clear that the picture was concealed somewhere upon the -premises, because Mr. Thornton and his friend, M. Duponnet, were coming -there the next day to look at it. June was quick to realize that this -fact offered a measure of opportunity which, slender as it was, must -certainly be used. No other was in the least likely to come her way. - -Three o’clock on Thursday afternoon she had learned already was the -hour of the appointment. It was now the afternoon of Wednesday. No -matter what the penalty, if flesh and blood could contrive it, she must -be present at this interview, and see what happened to the treasure. - -Despair heavy upon her, she lay awake the best part of the night -searching her mind for a plan of action. But the quest seemed hopeless. -Uncle Si could so easily thwart any scheme she might evolve. And he -would not have a scruple. She must outwit him somehow, but to outwit -one of such cunning was a task for a brain far stronger and nimbler -than hers. - -Lying up there in her comfortless bed, wild thoughts flocking round -her pillow like so many evil spirits, the whole sorry affair was as -haunting as a bad dream. And, interwoven with it, in the most fantastic -way, was the shop below, and more particularly the Hoodoo, the -presiding genius, which now stood forth in June’s mind as the replica -of Uncle Si himself. He was surely possessed by a devil, and this -heathen joss as surely embodied it. - -On Thursday morning June rose early. She was in a mood of desperation. -Little sleep had come to her in the long and dreary night hours. But, -in spite of feeling quite worn out, her determination to “best” Uncle -Si and regain her own property had not grown less. No ray was to be -seen anywhere, yet defiant of fate as she still was, the time had not -yet come to admit even to herself that all was lost. - -As dustpan and brush in hand she began the day’s work, more than one -reckless expedient crossed her mind. In the last resort she might put -the matter in the hands of the police. If she could have counted on -William’s support, she would have been tempted to do this, but the -rub was, he could not be depended on at all. Nobly as he had fought -her recent battle, it was clear that so far as the picture itself was -concerned, his sympathies were wholly with Uncle Si. Even if he did not -deny that the picture was her lawful property he had certainly done his -best to revoke his gift. - -No, she would gain nothing by calling in the police. She must find some -other way. During the night a wild plan had entered her mind. And if in -the course of the morning no scheme more hopeful occurred to her, she -was now resolved to act upon it. - -To this end, she began at once to throw dust in the eyes of Uncle -Si. At the breakfast table he was told that she meant to spend the -afternoon looking for a job if, with a modest eye on her plate, “he had -no objection.” - -The Old Crocodile had not the least objection. With gusto he assured -her that it was quite the best thing she could do. Privately he assured -himself that he didn’t want her hanging around the place while he was -transacting business of great importance with Mr. Thornton and Monsieur -Duponnet. Ever in the forefront of his mind was the fact that these -gentlemen were coming to see him at three o’clock. - -About an hour before the time appointed the old fox sent William on an -errand which would keep him away most of the afternoon. And further -to ensure that the coast should be quite clear, S. Gedge Antiques -said sharply to his niece, “Go and put on your hat, my girl, and make -yourself scarce. Get after that job you spoke about. I won’t have you -hanging around while these gentlemen are here.” - -June, however, had other views. And these, whatever they were, she was -at great pains not to disclose. First she watched William go innocently -forth on a long bus ride to Richmond. Next she made sure that Uncle Si -was composing himself in his armchair for his usual “forty winks” after -dinner. And then she proceeded boldly to develop her audacious design. - -To start with, she crept into the front shop and surveyed the Hoodoo. -The quaintly hideous vase was fully six feet tall, its body huge, its -mouth wide. Was it possible to get inside? There was little doubt that -if she was able to do so, this curious monster was quite large enough -to conceal her. - -She saw at once that the task before her was no light one. But by the -side of the Hoodoo, inscrutable Providence had placed a genuine antique -in the shape of a gate-legged table, £4.19.6--a great bargain. The -sight of this was encouraging. She climbed onto it. And then wedging -the Hoodoo most cunningly between the table and the wall, and artfully -disposing her own weight, so that the monster might not tip over, she -lowered herself with the caution and agility of a cat into the roomy -interior. - -It was almost a feat for an acrobat, but she managed it somehow. -Keeping tight hold of the rim as she swung both legs over, her feet -touched bottom with the vase still maintaining the perpendicular. The -space inside was ample, and without even the need to bend, the top of -her head was invisible. Near the top of the vase, moreover, was the -monster’s open mouth, a narrow slit studded with teeth, which not only -afforded a means of ventilation, but also through which, to June’s -devout joy, she was able to peer. - -For such a crowning boon on the part of Providence she had every reason -to feel grateful. So far everything was miraculously right. Her daring -had met with more success than could have been hoped for. One problem -remained, however, which at that moment she did not venture to look in -the face. To get into the vase was one thing; to get out of it would be -quite another. - -No friendly table could avail her now. In ascending that sheer and -slippery face of painted metal-work, she must not expect help from -outside when the time came to escape from her prison. Besides one -incautious movement might cause the whole thing to topple. And if -topple it did, the results would be dire. - -This, however, was not the time to consider that aspect of the case. -Let her be thankful for a concealment so perfect which allowed her to -breathe and to see without being seen or her presence suspected. For -such material benefits she must lift up her heart; and hope for the -best when the time came to get out. With a sense of grim satisfaction -she set herself “to lie doggo,” and await the next turn in a game that -was full of peril. - -It was not long before Uncle Si shambled into the shop. June could -see him quite clearly, as he came in with that furtive air which she -had learned to know so well. First he took off his spectacles and -applied to them vigorously a red bandanna handkerchief. Then he peered -cautiously round to make sure that he was alone. - -June had not dared to hope that the picture was concealed in the -shop; and yet it offered every facility. There were many nooks and -crannies, and the whole place was crammed with old pieces of furniture, -bric-à-brac, curios. But June had felt that S. Gedge Antiques was not -likely to run the risk of hiding his treasure in the midst of these. -She thought that his bedroom, under lock and key, was the most likely -place of all. - -Howbeit, with a sharp thrill, half torment, half delight, she saw that -this was not the case. Within a few feet of the Hoodoo itself was an -old oak chest which Uncle Si cautiously drew aside. The very spot -whereon it had rested contained a loose board. He took a small chisel -from a drawer in the counter, prised up the board and from beneath it -took forth the buried treasure. - -Long and lovingly the old man looked at it, hugging it to his breast -more than once in the process, and as he did so June was reminded -irresistibly of the Miser Gaspard in “Les Cloches des Corneville,” that -famous play she had once seen at the Theatre Royal, Blackhampton. To -hide such a thing in such a place was a regular miser’s trick. It was -just what she had expected of him. Presently a grandfather clock, with -a Westminster Abbey face, “guaranteed Queen Anne,” chimed the hour of -three. June could scarcely breathe for excitement. Her heart seemed to -rise in her throat and choke her. - -At five minutes past three came Mr. Thornton and Monsieur Duponnet. -The Frenchman was a small and dapper personage, with a keen eye and a -neat imperial. In manner he was much quieter than tradition exacts of -a Frenchman, but it was easy to tell that Uncle Si was much impressed -by him. Louis Quinze-legs, too, was full of deference. That gentleman, -whose face was almost as foxy as that of Uncle Si himself, and about -whose lips a thin smile flitted perpetually, had an air of tacit homage -for the smallest remark of M. Duponnet, who was clearly a man of great -consequence if the bearing of Mr. Thornton was anything to go by. - -June, at the back of the shop, inside the Hoodoo and her keen eyes -hidden by its half-open jaws, which, in addition to other advantages -was partly masked by a litter of bric-à-brac, was in a position to gain -full knowledge of all that passed between these three. To begin with, -S. Gedge Antiques ceremoniously handed the picture to Louis Quinze-legs -who, with a fine gesture, handed it to Monsieur Duponnet. - -The Frenchman examined the canvas back and front through his own -private glass, scratched portions of it with his nail, pursed his lips, -rubbed his nose, and no doubt would have shrugged his shoulders had not -that been such a jejune thing for a Frenchman to do. - -With a deference that was quite impressive, Mr. Thornton and S. Gedge -Antiques waited for M. Duponnet to say something. - -“Ze tail of ze R. is a little faint, hein!” was what he said. - -“But it is a tail, Mussewer,” said S. Gedge Antiques in a robust voice. - -“And it is an R,” said polite Mr. Thornton, as he bent over the picture. - -“You can bet your life on that,” said S. Gedge Antiques. - -M. Duponnet did not seem inclined to wager anything so valuable as -his life. After a little hesitation, which involved further minute -examination through his glass, he was ready to take the ‘R’ for -granted. But he went on to deplore the fact that the picture was -without a pedigree. - -“A pedigree, Mussewer!” It was now the turn of S. Gedge Antiques to rub -his nose. - -M. Duponnet succinctly explained, with the air of a man expounding a -commonplace in the world of art, that Van Roons were so few, their -qualities so rare, their monetary value so considerable, that as soon -as one came into the market its history was eagerly scrutinised. And -should one suddenly appear that previously had not been known to exist -it would have to run the gauntlet of the most expert criticism. - -“May be, Mussewer!” S. Gedge Antiques wagged a dour head. “But that’s -not going to alter the fact that this be-yew-ti-ful thing is a genuine -Van Roon.” - -In a manner of speaking it would not, agreed M. Duponnet, but it might -detract considerably from its market value. - -“That’s as may be.” The old man suddenly assumed quite a high tone. - -M. Duponnet and Mr. Thornton took the picture to the other side of the -shop and conferred together. So low were their voices that neither -Uncle Si nor June could hear a word of what passed between them. -Times and again they held the canvas to the light. They laid it on -a tallboys, and pored over it; they borrowed the microscope of one -another and made great show of using it; and then finally Mr. Thornton -crossed the floor and said to Uncle Si, who was handling a piece of -Waterford glass with the most pensive unconcern: “What’s your price, -Mr. Gedge?” - -“Heh?” said the old man, as if emerging from a beautiful dream. “Price? -You had better name one.” - -Excitement at this point seemed to cause June’s heart to stop beating. - -“The trouble is,” said Mr. Thornton, “our friend, M. Duponnet, is not -quite convinced that it is a Van Roon.” - -“But there’s the signature.” - -“It seems to have been touched up a bit.” - -“Not by me,” said S. Gedge Antiques, austerely. - -“We don’t think that for a moment,” said Mr. Thornton, in a voice of -honey. “But the signature is by no means so clear as it might be, and -in the absence of a pedigree M. Duponnet does not feel justified in -paying a big price.” - -There was a pause while the old man indulged in a dramatic change of -spectacles. And then he said rather sourly, in a tone that M. Duponnet -could not fail to hear: “Pedigree or no pedigree, I shall have no -difficulty in selling it. You know as well as I do, Mr. Thornton, that -American buyers are in the market.” - -“Quite so, Mr. Gedge,” said Mr. Thornton suavely. And then while Uncle -Si glared at both gentlemen as if they had been caught with their -hands in his pocket, they conferred again together. This time it was -M. Duponnet who ended their discussion by saying: “Meester Gedge, name -your figure!” - -“Figure?” said Uncle Si dreamily; and then in his odd way he scratched -his scrub of whisker with a thumbnail and rubbed a forefinger down his -long and foxlike nose. - -“Your price, Meester Gedge?” - -“Mussewer!” said the old man solemnly, “I couldn’t take less than five -thousand pounds, I couldn’t really.” - -June held her breath. For some little time past she had been convinced -that the picture was valuable, but she was hardly prepared for this -fabulous sum. - -M. Duponnet shook his head. “Meester Gedge, if only we had its ’istory!” - -“If we had its history, Mussewer, I should want at least twice the -money. Even as it is I am taking a big chance. You know that as well as -I do.” - -This seemed to be true. At all events, M. Duponnet and Mr. Thornton -again talked earnestly together. Once more they fingered that rather -dilapidated canvas. Head to head they bent over it yet again; and then -suddenly M. Duponnet looked up and came abruptly across to the old man. - -“Meester Gedge,” he said, “I can’t go beyond four t’ousand pounds. That -is my limit!” - -“Five, Mussewer Duponny, that is mine,” said Uncle Si, with a dark -smile. - -It was a jejune thing for a French gentleman to do, but at this point -M. Duponnet really and truly gave his shoulders a shrug, and advanced -three paces towards the shop door. Uncle Si did not stir a muscle. And -then M. Duponnet faced about and said: “Guineas, Meester Gedge, I’ll -give four t’ousand guineas, and that’s my last word.” - -Uncle Si having no pretensions to be considered a French gentleman, did -not hesitate to give his own shoulders a shrug. It was his turn then -to confer with the discreet and knowledgeable Mr. Thornton, who it was -clear was acting the difficult part of a go-between. - -June heard that gentleman say in an audible whisper: “A fair price, Mr. -Gedge, for the thing as it stands. It hasn’t a pedigree, and to me that -signature looks a bit doubtful. In the market it may fetch more or it -may fetch less, but at the same time four thousand guineas is a fine -insurance.” - -Finished dissembler as Uncle Si was, even he did not seek to deny the -truth of this. There could be no gainsaying that four thousand guineas -_was_ a fine insurance. True, if the picture proved to be a -veritable Van Roon it might fetch many times that sum. In that shrewd -mind, no bigger miracle was needed for the thing to turn out a _chef -d’œuvre_ than that it should prove to be worth the sum offered by -M. Duponnet. Either contingency seemed too good to be true. Besides, S. -Gedge Antiques belonged to a conservative school, among whose articles -of faith was a certain trite proverb about a bird in the hand. - -It went to the old man’s heart to accept four thousand guineas for -a work that might be worth so very much more. June could hear him -breathing heavily. In her tense ear that sound dominated even the -furious beating of her own heart. A kind of dizziness came over her, as -only too surely she understood that the wicked old man was giving in. -Before her very eyes he was going to surrender her own private property -for a fabulous sum. - -“Four t’ousand guineas, Meester Gedge,” said M. Duponnet, with quite an -air of nonchalance. But he knew well enough that the old man was about -to “fall.” - -“It’s giving it away, Mussewer,” whined Uncle Si. “It’s giving it away.” - -“Zat I don’t t’ink, Meester Gedge,” said the French gentleman, quietly -unbuttoning his coat and taking a fountain pen and a cheque book from -an inner pocket. “It’s a risque--a big risque. It may not be Van Roon -at all--and zen where are we?” - -“You know as well as I do that it’s a Van Roon,” Uncle Si verged almost -upon tears. - -“Very well, Meester Gedge, if you prefer ze big chance.” And cheque -book in hand the French gentleman paused. - -June was torn. And she could tell by the strange whine in the rasping -voice that the Old Crocodile was also torn. - -At this moment of crisis, Mr. Thornton interposed with masterful -effect. “In my humble opinion,” he said, “it’s a very fair offer for -the thing as it stands.” - -“You are thinking of your ten per cent. commission, my boy,” said S. -Gedge Antiques with a gleam of malice. - -“Well, Meester Gedge,” said M. Duponnet, “take it or leave it.” And the -French gentleman began to fold up his cheque book. - -With a groan to rend a heart of stone, S. Gedge Antiques brought -himself suddenly to accept the offer. Half suffocated by excitement, -June watched M. Duponnet cross to the desk and proceed to write out a -cheque for four thousand guineas. And as she did so her heart sank. She -was quite sure that she was looking upon the picture for the last time. - -In jumping to this conclusion, however, she had not made full allowance -for the business capacity of Uncle Si. When M. Duponnet had filled in -the cheque and handed it to him, the Old Crocodile scrutinised it very -carefully indeed, and then he said: “Thank you, Mussewer Duponny. The -bank closes at three. But to-morrow morning I’ll take this round myself -as soon as it opens. And if the manager says it’s all right, you can -have the picture whenever you like.” - -“_Bien!_” The Frenchman bowed politely. “Meanwhile, take good care -of the picture. There are many thieves about.” M. Duponnet laughed. -“Mind you lock it up in a safe place.” - -“You can trust Mr. Gedge to do that, I think,” said Louis Quinze-legs -dryly. - -“I hope so, I’m sure,” said the old man with a frosty smile. - -“_Soit!_” M. Duponnet smiled too. “I’ll call for it myself -to-morrow morning at twelve.” - -“Thank you, Mussewer!” - -S. Gedge Antiques gave his visitors a bow as they went up to the shop -door, and ushered them ceremoniously into the not particularly inviting -air of New Cross Street. - - - - -XXVII - - -JUST at first June was unable to realise that M. Duponnet had -not taken the picture away with him. The blood seemed to drum against -her brain while she watched Uncle Si turn over the cheque in his -long talon fingers and then transfer it to a leather case, which he -returned to his breast pocket with a deep sigh. Afterwards he took up -the picture from the table on which he had set it down and then June -grasped the fact that the treasure was still there. - -The face which bent over it now was not that of a happy man. It was -a complex of emotions, deep and stern. The price was huge for a -thing that had cost him nothing, but--and there it was that the shoe -pinched!--if it should prove to be a real Van Roon, he might be parting -with it for a song. - -June could read his thoughts like an open book. He wanted to eat his -cake and have it too. She would have been inclined to pity him had her -hatred and her scorn been less. In his cunning and his greed he was a -tragic figure, with a thing of incomparable beauty in his hand whose -sole effect was to give him the look of an evil bird of prey. Utter -rascal as she knew him to be now, she shivered to think how easy it -would be for herself to grow just like him. Her very soul was fixed -upon the recovery of this wonderful thing which, in the first place, -she had obtained by a trick. And did she covet it for its beauty? Or -was it for the reason which at this moment made Uncle Si a creature so -ill to look upon? To such questions there could only be one answer. - -For the time being, however, these things were merged in the -speculation far more momentous: What will the Old Crocodile do now? -She was feeling so uncomfortable in her narrow hiding place, which -prevented all movement, and almost forbade her to breathe, that she -hoped devoutly the old wretch would lose no time in putting back the -treasure. - -This, alas, was not to be. The picture was still in the hand of Uncle -Si, who still pored over it like a moulting vulture, when a luxurious -motor glided up to the shop door. Almost at once the shop was invaded -by two persons, who in the sight of June had a look of notable -importance. - -The first of these, whom June immediately recognised, was the tall, -fashionable girl whose visit had caused her such heart-burning the week -before. She was now accompanied by a gentleman who beyond a doubt was -her distinguished father. - -“Good morning, Mr. Gedge!” It was twenty past three by the afternoon, -but June was ready to take a Bible oath that Miss Blue Blood said “good -morning.” “I’ve persuaded my father to come and look at this amazing -vase.” And with her _en-tout-cas_ Miss Blue Blood pointed straight -at the Hoodoo. - -Feeling herself to be a rat caught neatly in a trap, June at once -crouched lower. The Hoodoo being fully six feet tall and her own stoop -considerable, she was able to take comfort from the fact that just then -no part of her own head was showing. But how long was she likely to -remain invisible? That was a question for the gods. And it was further -complicated by the knowledge that the Hoodoo’s mouth was open, and that -the point of Miss Blue Blood’s green umbrella might easily find a way -through. - -A-shiver with fear June tried to subdue her wild heart, while Miss -Babraham, her father, Sir Arthur, and S. Gedge Antiques gathered round -the Hoodoo. She hardly dared to breathe. The least sound would betray -her. And in any case, one of the three had merely to stand on an -adjacent coffin stool and peer over the top for the murder to be out. - -The tragedy which June so clearly foresaw was not permitted to take -place at once. Plainly the fates were inclined to toy with their victim -for a while. Miss Blue Blood’s laugh--how rich and deep it was!--rang -in her ears and made them burn as she gave the Hoodoo a prod and cried -out in her gay Miss-Banks-like manner, “Papa, I ask you, did you ever -see anything quite like it?” - -“By George, no!” laughed that connoisseur. - -“It’s such a glorious monster,” said his enthusiastic daughter standing -on tiptoe, “that one can’t even see over the top.” - -“Puts one in mind,” said Sir Arthur, “of the Arabian Nights and the -Cave of the Forty Robbers.” - -“The long gallery at Homefield is the very place for it!” - -“I wonder!” The connoisseur tapped the Hoodoo with his walking stick -and turned to S. Gedge Antiques. “Do you happen to know where it came -from?” he asked. - -“From a Polynesian temple in the South Sea Islands, I believe, sir,” -said Uncle Si, glibly. - -“What do you want for it?” And Sir Arthur tapped the Hoodoo again. - -“I’ll take thirty pounds, sir.” It was the voice of a man bringing -himself to part with a valuable tooth. “Sixty was the sum I paid for it -some years ago. But it isn’t everybody’s fancy, and it swallows a small -place.” - -Sir Arthur observed with pleasant humour that such a monstrosity ought -to be taken over by the nation. S. Gedge Antiques, with a humour that -strove to be equally pleasant, concurred. - -At this point, to June’s mortal terror, Miss Babraham made a second -attempt to look over the top. - -“Stand on this coffin stool, Miss,” said S. Gedge Antiques, politely -producing that article from the collection of bric-à-brac around the -Hoodoo. - -June’s heart stood still. The game was up. Sickly she closed her eyes. -But Providence had one last card to play. - -“Thank you so much,” said Miss Babraham. “But it won’t bear my weight, -I’m afraid. No, I don’t think I’ll risk it. There’s really nothing to -see inside.” - -Uncle Si agreed that there was really nothing to see inside; and June -breathed again. - -“Thirty pounds isn’t much, papa, for such a glorious monstrosity.” Miss -Blue Blood had evidently set her heart on it. - -Sir Arthur, however, expressed a fear that a thing of that size, that -hue, that contour would kill every object in the Long Gallery. Great -argument ensued. And then to June’s relief, Miss Babraham, her father, -Sir Arthur and S. Gedge Antiques, arguing still, moved away from the -Hoodoo. - -The upshot was that Sir Arthur, overborne at last by the force of -his daughter’s reasoning, agreed to buy the monster, for what in the -opinion of the seller, was a ridiculously inadequate sum. It was -to be carefully packed in a crate, and sent down to Homefield near -Byfleet, Surrey. So much for the Hoodoo. And then the eye of a famous -connoisseur lit on the picture that the old dealer had laid on the -gate-legged table. - -“What have we here?” said Sir Arthur, fixing his eyeglass. - -Uncle Si became a sphinx. The connoisseur took the picture in his hand, -and while he examined it with grave curiosity he too became a sphinx. -So tense grew the silence to June’s ear that again she was troubled by -the loud beating of her heart. - -At last the silence was broken by the light and charming note of Miss -Babraham. “Why, surely,” she said, “that is the funny old picture I saw -when I was here the other day.” - -“We have cleaned it up a bit since then, madam,” said Uncle Si in -a voice so toneless that June could only marvel at the perfect -self-command of this arch dissembler. - -Sir Arthur, it was clear, was tremendously interested. He turned the -picture over and over, and used the microscope very much as M. Duponnet -had done. Finally he said in a voice nearly as toneless as that of -Uncle Si himself. “What do you ask for this, Mr. Gedge?” - -“Not for sale, sir,” was the decisive answer. - -The nod of Sir Arthur implied that it was the answer he expected. -“Looks to me a fine example.” A true amateur, he could not repress a -little sigh of pleasure. There was no concealing the fact that he was -intrigued. - -“Van Roon at his best, sir,” said S. Gedge Antiques. - -“Ye-es,” said the connoisseur--in the tone of the connoisseur. -“One would be rather inclined to say so. If the question is not -impertinent,”--Sir Arthur fixed a steady eye upon the face of deep -cunning which confronted his--“may I ask where it came from?” - -The old man was prepared for the question. His answer was pat. “I can’t -tell you that, sir,” he said, in a tone of mystery. - -Again Sir Arthur nodded. That, too, was the answer he had expected. In -the pause which followed Sir Arthur returned to a loving re-examination -of the picture; and then said S. Gedge Antiques in a voice gravely and -quietly confidential: “Strictly between ourselves, sir, I may say that -I have just turned down an offer of five thousand guineas.” - -“Oh--indeed!” - -It was now the turn of the Old Crocodile to gaze into the impassive -countenance of the famous connoisseur. - - - - -XXVIII - - -“FIVE thousand guineas, sir, I have just refused,” said Uncle -Si, “for this little thing, as sure as God’s in the sky.” - -So shocked was June by this adding of blasphemy to his other crimes, -that she shivered audibly. Miss Babraham cocked up her head at the -sound. “You’ve a cat somewhere, haven’t you?” she said, looking around -the shop. - -“No, madam,” said Uncle Si shortly. So like a woman to butt in at such -a moment with such a remark! - -“In my humble opinion,” said Sir Arthur, gazing solemnly at the -picture, “this is a finer example of Van Roon than the one--and the -only one!--we have in the National Gallery.” - -“There, sir, I am with you,” said S. Gedge Antiques with unction. - -“One would like to know its history.” - -The old man became a sphinx once more. “I can only tell you, sir, I -didn’t buy it as a Van Roon,” he said cautiously. - -“Really!” Sir Arthur grew more intrigued than ever. “Well, Mr. Gedge, -whatever you bought it as, I think there can be no doubt that you’ve -made a lucky purchase.” - -“I am wondering, sir,” said S. Gedge Antiques, “whether the National -Gallery would care to acquire this fine example?” It was a sudden -inspiration, but those measured tones and calculating eyes gave no -indication of the fact. - -Sir Arthur Babraham, in his own capacity of a National Gallery trustee, -began sensibly to moderate his transports. “More unlikely things, Mr. -Gedge,” at last he brought himself reluctantly to say. “Van Roons are -very scarce, and if this one is all that he appears to be at a first -glance, it will be a pity to let him leave the country.” - -Piously, S. Gedge Antiques thought so, too. - -Sir Arthur turned to the picture again. Like M. Duponnet he seemed to -have difficulty in keeping his expert gaze off that fascinating canvas. - -“Reminds one,” he said, “of that choice thing that was stolen from -the Louvre about twenty-five years ago. The size is similar and, as I -remember it, the whole composition is in some ways identical.” - -The old man was startled, but not visibly. “Was there one stolen from -the Loov, sir?” he said, with a polite air of asking for information. - -“Why, yes! Don’t you remember? There was a great stir at the time. It -was cut out of its frame. The French Government offered a big reward, -but the work has never been recovered.” - -“Indeed, sir.” All at once the Old Crocodile began to gambol a little. -“Let’s hope this ain’t the boy.” He gave a mild snigger. But as his -next words proved there was more in that snigger than met the ear. “In -the event of this little jool turning out to be stolen property, what, -sir, do you suppose would be the position of the present owner?” - -“Difficult to say, Mr. Gedge.” - -“He’d receive compensation, wouldn’t he?” - -“Substantial compensation one would think--if he was able to prove his -title.” - -If he was able to prove his title! Those blunt little words had a -sinister sound for S. Gedge Antiques, but he did not turn a hair. “No -difficulty about that, sir,” he said, robustly. - -“Quite!” Evidently Sir Arthur had no doubt upon the point. “But as the -question might arise it may be well to have it settled before disposing -of the picture.” - -S. Gedge agreed. - -“And in any case, before parting with it,” said Sir Arthur, “it will be -wise, I think, to take advice.” - -Again S. Gedge agreed. “You mean, sir, it may be very valuable indeed?” - -“Yes, I quite think it may be. At a cursory glance it has the look of a -fine example of a great master. I remember at the time that ‘L’Automne’ -disappeared from the Louvre, it was said to be worth at least two -hundred and fifty thousand francs, and since then Van Roons have more -than doubled in price.” - -“In that case, sir”--there was a tremor of real emotion in the voice of -the old dealer--“this be-yew-ti-ful thing ought not to be allowed to -leave the country.” - -“Unfortunately the French authorities may compel it to do so.” And the -connoisseur sighed as he fingered the canvas lovingly. - -Affirmed S. Gedge Antiques: “I don’t believe, sir, for a moment that it -is ‘L’Automne.’” - -“One wouldn’t like to say it is,” said the cautious Sir Arthur. “And -one wouldn’t like to say it isn’t.” - -“It’ll be up to the Loov to prove it, anyhow.” - -“Quite. In the meantime, before you let it go, I hope you’ll give me -an opportunity of looking at it again.” - -This modest request caused the old man to rub his nose. He was not in -a position, he said mysteriously, to give a promise, but certainly he -would do his best to meet the wishes of Sir Arthur. - -“Thank you, Mr. Gedge. If this picture is not claimed by other people, -and of course one doesn’t for a moment suggest that it will be, steps -might be taken to keep it here. We are so poor in Van Roons--there is -only one, I believe--to our shame!--in this country at the present -time--that we can’t afford to let a thing like this slip through our -fingers. Therefore, as I say, before you decide to sell I hope you’ll -take advice.” - -S. Gedge Antiques gravely thanked Sir Arthur Babraham. He would keep -those wise words in mind. And in the meantime he would pack _That_ -in a crate--he pointed a finger straight at June’s eyes--and send it to -Homefield.---- - -“----near Byfleet, Surrey, I think you said, sir?” - - - - -XXIX - - -THE distinguished visitors were bowed into the street. And -then S. Gedge Antiques, with the face of a man whose soul is in -torment, returned to contemplation of the picture, and also of M. -Duponnet’s cheque which he took out of his pocket book. It was clear -that his mind was the prey of a deep problem. The bird in the hand was -well enough so far as it went, but the bird in the bush was horribly -tempting. - -At last with a heavy sigh the old man returned the cheque to his -pocket, and then cautiously lifting up the loose board, put back the -picture whence it came and drew the oak chest over the spot. He then -shambled off to the room next door, which was full of odds and ends -mingled with a powerful smell of oil and varnish. - -June at once made an attempt to get out of prison. But she now found -her position to be as she had already surmised. To enter without help -had been no mean feat, to escape in the same fashion was impossible. -Wedged so tightly inside the Hoodoo, there was neither play nor -purchase for her hands; and frantic as her efforts were, they were yet -subordinated to the knowledge that it would be quite easy for the thing -to topple over. Should that happen the consequence would certainly be -alarming and possibly ghastly. - -Frantically wriggling in the jaws of the Hoodoo, it did not matter -what she did, she was firmly held. And the fear of Uncle Si, who was -pottering about quite close at hand, while imposing silence upon her, -intensified the growing desperation of her case. She was a mouse in a -trap. - -Too soon did she learn that only one course was open to her. She must -wait for William’s return. Irksome and humiliating as the position was, -it was clear that she could do nothing without help. - -Would William never come? The minutes ticked on and her durance grew -exceedingly vile. She became conscious of pains in her shoulders and -feet, she felt as if she could hardly draw breath, her head throbbing -with excitement seemed as if it must burst. It was a horrible fix to be -in. - -Suffering acutely now, she yielded as well as she could to the -inevitable. There was simply nothing to be done. She must wait. It was -imprisonment in a most unpleasant form and she was frightened by the -knowledge that it might continue many hours. Even when William did -return, and there was no saying when he would do so, he was quite as -likely to enter by the back door as by the shop. So terrible was the -thought that June felt ready to faint at the bare idea. - -This was a matter, however, in which fate was not so relentless after -all. June was doing her best to bear up in the face of this new and -paralysing fear when the shop door opened and lo! William came in. - -Great was her joy, and yet it had to be tempered by considerations of -prudence. She contrived to raise her lips to the mouth of the Hoodoo, -and to breathe his name in a tragic whisper. - -As he heard her and turned, she urged in the same odd fashion: “For -Heaven’s sake--not a sound!” - -“Why--Miss June!” he gasped. “Where are you?” - -She checked him with wild whisperings that yet served to draw him to -her prison. - -He was dumbfounded, quite as much as by her fiercely tragic voice as by -the amazing predicament in which he found her. - -“Help me out!” she commanded him. “And don’t make the least sound. -Uncle Si is next door, and if he finds me here, something terrible will -happen.” - -Such force and such anxiety had one at least of the results so much to -be desired. They forbade the asking of futile questions. Every moment -was precious if she was to make good her escape. - -William in this crisis proved himself a right good fellow. His sense -of the ludicrous was keen, but he stifled it. Moreover, a legitimate -curiosity had been fully aroused, but he stifled that also as he -proceeded to carry out these imperious orders. But even with such ready -and stalwart help, June was to learn again that it was no easy matter -to escape from the Hoodoo. - -Without venturing to speak again, William mounted the gate-legged table -and offered both hands to the prisoner. But the trouble was that she -was so tightly pinned that she could not raise hers to receive them. -And it was soon fatally clear that so long as the Hoodoo kept the -perpendicular it would be impossible for any external agent to secure a -hold upon the body wedged within its jaws. - -After several attempts at dislodgement had miserably failed, June -gasped in a kind of anguish: “Do you think you can tip this thing -over--very gently--without making a sound?” - -This was trying William highly indeed, but it seemed the only thing to -be done. Happily he was tall and strong; much was said, all the same, -for his power of muscle and the infinite tact with which it was applied -that he was able to tilt the Hoodoo on to its end. Keeping the vase -firmly under control, he then managed to regulate its descent to the -shop floor so skilfully as to avoid a crash. - -Such a feat was really a triumph of applied dynamics. June, however, -was not in a position to render it all the homage it deserved, even -if she was deeply grateful for the address that William brought to -bear upon his task. Once the Hoodoo had been laid full length on the -shop floor she was able to wriggle her body and her shoulders with -what violence she pleased, without the fear of disaster. A series of -convulsive twists and writhings and she was free! - -As soon as she knew that she was no longer pinned by the jaws of the -monster, the action of a strong mind was needed to ward off a threat -of hysteria. But she controlled herself sufficiently to help William -restore the Hoodoo to the perpendicular; and then she said in a whisper -of extreme urgency which was barely able to mask the sob of nerves -overstrung: “Not one word now. But go straight into the kitchen--just -as if you hadn’t seen me. And remember whatever happens”--the whisper -grew fiercer, the sob more imminent--“if Uncle Si asks the question -you _haven’t_ seen me. I’m supposed to be looking for a job. You -understand?” - -To say that William did understand would have been to pay him a most -fulsome compliment; yet the stout fellow behaved as if the whole of -this amazing matter was as clear as daylight. Such was June’s fixity -of will, the sheer force of her personality, that he left the shop at -once like a man hypnotised. Excited questions trembled upon his lips, -but in the face of this imperiousness he did not venture to give them -play. - -He made one attempt--one half-hearted attempt. - -“But Miss June----!” - -The only answer of Miss June was to cram one hand over his mouth, and -with the other to propel him towards the door which led to the back -premises. - - - - -XXX - - -AS soon as William had passed out of the shop, June stood a -moment to gather nerve and energy for the task before her. Feeling -considerably tossed, above all she was devoured by a horrible form of -excitement whose effect was like nothing so much as a bad dream. But -this was not a time for dreams. The situation was full of peril; not a -moment must be lost. - -The picture was her immediate concern. She set herself at once to the -business of moving the oak chest aside. This presented no difficulty, -for there was nothing in it; but the loose board beneath it did. -Fingers unhelped could not prise it up; they must have a chisel. She -knew that such an implement was to be found in one of the drawers of -the desk, but she had stealthily to open three or four before she came -upon the right one. - -While all this was going on, she could hear the voices of William and -Uncle Si in the room next door. It seemed that no matter what her -caution or her haste, she would almost certainly be interrupted before -she was through with her task. But luck was with her. She was able to -lift the board, take forth the picture, replace the chest and return -the chisel to its drawer without the voices coming any nearer. - -Picture in hand, she tiptoed out of the shop as far as the stairs. -Through the open door of the inner room the back of Uncle Si was -visible as she crept by. It was taking a grave risk to attempt the -stairs at such a moment, but she was wrought up to a point when to go -back and wait was impossible. She must continue to chance her luck. - -Up the stairs she crept, expecting at every second one to hear a harsh -voice recall her. To her unspeakable relief, however, she was able to -gain sanctuary in her own room without hindrance. She bolted the door -against the enemy, although so far as she was aware, he was still in -the room below in total ignorance of what had happened. - -Shivering as if in the throes of fever, she sat on the edge of her -narrow bed. The treasure was hers still. She held it to her bosom as -a mother holds a child; yet the simple act gave rise at once to the -problem of problems: What must be done with the thing now? There could -be no security for it under that roof. And not to the picture alone -did this apply, but also to herself. Anything might happen as soon -as the old man found out that the Van Roon was not, after all, to be -his. Meanwhile, the future hardly bore thinking about; it was like a -precipice beyond whose edge she dare not look. - -One act, however, did not admit of a moment’s delay: there and then -the treasure must be smuggled out of the house and put in a place of -safety. Rowelled by this thought, June rose from the bed, took a piece -of brown paper and some string from her box, and proceeded to transform -the picture into a neat parcel. She then slipped off her dress, which -was considerably the worse for contact with the dusty interior of the -Hoodoo, performed a hasty toilette, put on her walking-out coat and -skirt and changed her shoes. Finally, she put on the better of the only -two hats she possessed, slipped her mother’s battered old leather purse -into her coat pocket, and then, umbrella in one hand, parcel in the -other, she turned to the hazard of stealing downstairs and making good -her escape. - -In the middle of the twisty stairs, just before their sharpest bend -would bring her into the view of persons below, she stopped to listen. -The voices had ceased; she could not hear a sound. Two ways lay before -her of reaching the street: one via the parlour to the kitchen and -out along the side entry, the other through the front door of the -shop. Either route might be commanded at the moment by the enemy. With -nothing to guide her, June felt that the only safe course just then was -to stay where she was. In the strategic position she had taken up on -the stairs she could not be seen from below, yet a quick ear might hope -to gain a clue to what was going on. - -She had not to wait long. From the inner room, whose door opposite the -foot of the stairs was still half open, although its occupant was no -more seen, there suddenly came the strident tones of Uncle Si. They -were directed unmistakably kitchenward. “Boy, you’d better get the tea -ready. Seemin’ly that gell ain’t home.” - -“Very good, sir,” came a prompt and cheerful response from the back -premises. - -June decided at once that the signs were favourable. Now was her -chance; the way through the front shop was evidently clear. Deftly as -a cat she came down the remaining stairs and stole past the half-open -door of what was known as “the lumber room,” where, however, old -chairs were sometimes fitted with new legs and old chests with new -panels. - -Uncle Si was undoubtedly there. June could hear him moving about as she -passed the door; indeed she was hardly clear of it when she received a -most unwelcome reminder of this fact. Either he chanced to turn round -as she crept by, or he caught a glimpse of her passing in one of the -numerous mirrors that surrounded him. For just as she reached the shop -threshold she heard his irascible bark: “That you, niece?” - -The road clear ahead, June did not pause to weigh consequences. She -simply bolted. Even if the old man was not likely to guess what her -neat parcel contained, it would surely be the height of folly to give -him the chance. - -Never in her life had she been quite so thankful as when she found -herself in the street with the treasure safely under her arm. - - - - -XXXI - - -JUNE went swiftly down New Cross Street to the Strand. Until -she reached that garish sea of traffic she dare not look back lest hot -on her heels should be Uncle Si. Such a discovery was not at all likely -she well knew; the feeling was therefore illogical, yet she could not -rid herself of it until she was merged in the ever-flowing tide. - -Taking refuge at last in a jeweller’s doorway from the maelstrom of -passers by, June had now another problem to face. The Van Roon must -find a home. But the question of questions was--where? - -Apart from William and Uncle Si, and her chance acquaintance, Mr. -Keller, she did not know a soul in London. Mr. Keller, however, sprang -at once to her mind. Yet more than one reservation promptly arose -in regard to him. She knew really nothing about him beyond the fact -that he was a man of obviously good address, belonging to a class -superior to her own. He was a man of the world, of a certain breeding -and education, but whether it would be wise to trust a comparative -stranger in such a matter seemed exceedingly doubtful to a girl of -June’s horse sense. Still there was no one else to whom she could turn. -And recalling the circumstances of their first meeting, if one could -ignore the means by which it had come about, there was something oddly -compelling, something oddly attractive, about this Mr. Keller. - -In the total absence of other alternatives, June found her mind drawn -so far in the direction of this man of mystery that at last she took -from her purse a slip of paper on which he had written his name and -address: “Adolph Keller, No. 4, Haliburton Studios, Manning Square, -Soho.” - -Could she trust him with the care of a Van Roon? Now that she had -been a witness of its terrible effect on Uncle Si, she was forced to -ask whether it would be right to trust any man with such a talisman. -Luckily, the world was not peopled exclusively with Uncle Sis. She -would have to trust somebody with her treasure, that was certain; and, -after all, there was no reason to suspect that Mr. Keller was not an -honest man. - -She was still in the jeweller’s doorway, wrestling with the pros and -cons of the tough matter, when a passing bus displaying the name -Victoria Station caught her eye. In a flash came the solution of the -problem. - -Again she entered the sea of traffic, to be borne slowly along by the -slow tide as far as Charing Cross. Here she waited for another bus to -Victoria. The solving of the riddle was absurdly simple after all. What -place for her treasure could be safer, more accessible than a railway -station cloak room? - -She boarded Bus 23. But hardly had it turned the corner into Whitehall -when a thin flicker of elation was dashed by the salutary thought -that her brain was giving out. The cloak room at Charing Cross, -from the precincts of whose station she had just driven away, was -equally adapted to her need. Along the entire length of Whitehall and -Victoria Street she was haunted by the idea that she was losing her -wits. A prolonged scrutiny of her pale but now collected self in a -confectioner’s window on the threshold of the London and Brighton -terminus was called for to reassure her. And even then, for a girl -so shrewd and so practical, there remained the scar of a distressing -mental lapse. - -It did not take long to deposit the parcel in the cloak room on the -main line down platform. But in the act of doing so, occurred a slight -incident which was destined to have a bearing on certain events to -follow. When a ticket was handed to her, she could only meet the charge -of three pence with a ten shilling note. - -“Nothing smaller, Miss?” asked the clerk. - -“I’m afraid I haven’t,” said June, searching her purse, and then -carefully placing the ticket in its middle compartment. - -“You’ll have to wait while I get change then.” - -“Sorry to trouble you,” June murmured, as the clerk went out through a -door into an inner office. Ever observant and alert, she noticed that -the clerk was a tallish young man, whose freely curling fair hair put -her in mind of William, and that he wore a new suit of green corduroy. - -The likeness to William gave _bouquet_ to her politeness, when -the young man returned with the change. “Sorry to give you so much -trouble,” she said again. - -“No trouble, miss.” And Green Corduroy handed the change across the -cloak room counter with a frank smile that was not unworthy of William -himself. - - - - -XXXII - - -THE treasure in a safe place, June had to consider what to do -next. One fact stood out clear in her mind. She must leave at once the -sheltering roof of S. Gedge Antiques. There was no saying what would -happen when the Old Crocodile discovered that the Van Roon was missing. - -The sooner she collected her box and her gear, and found another -lodging the better. Her best plan would be to go back to New Cross -Street and get them now. Uncle Si was hardly likely as yet to have -made the discovery. It would be wise, therefore, to take advantage of -this lull, for at the most it was only a matter of a few hours before -the truth was known. And when known it was, Number Forty-six New Cross -Street was the very last place in London in which she would choose to -be. - -There was a chance, of course, that “the murder” was out already. -But she would have to take the risk of that. All that she had in the -world beyond the six paper pounds, nine shillings and ninepence in her -purse, was in the box in the garret. Her entire resources were about -seventeen pounds in money, a scanty wardrobe, and a few odds and ends -of jewellery of little value, but if she could get hold of these they -might suffice to tide her over a sorely anxious time. - -In the present state of her nerves, courage was needed to return to -New Cross Street. But it had to be. And it was now or never. If her box -was to be got away, she must go boldly back at once and claim it. How -this was to be done without arousing suspicion she did not quite know, -but the most hopeful method was to announce that she had been able -to find a job, and also good lodgings, and that she did not care to -lay the burden of her presence upon Uncle Si one hour longer than was -necessary. - -She had been brought up with a strict regard for the truth, but fate -was driving her so hard that she could not afford to have scruples. -Hanging by a strap on the Underground to Charing Cross, which seemed -the quickest route, and time was the essence of the matter, she -rehearsed the part she had now to play. Certainly the playing itself -would not lack gusto. Nothing life so far had given her would yield -quite so much pleasure as saying good-bye to the Old Crocodile, and -ironically thanking him for all his kindness. At the same time, the -job and lodgings story must be pitched in just the right key, or his -suspicions would be aroused, and then something horribly unpleasant -might occur. - -By the time June had turned out of the Strand into New Cross Street, a -heavy autumnal dusk had fallen upon that bleak thoroughfare. Somehow -the dark pall struck at her heart. In a sense it was symbolical of -the business upon which she was engaged. She felt like a thief whose -instinct welcomes darkness, and whose conscience fears it. - -Never in her life had she needed such courage as to turn up that gloomy -and dismal street and accost the forbidding threshold of S. Gedge -Antiques. The shop was still open, for it was hardly more than six -o’clock, and two gas jets lit the interior in a way that added to its -dolour. - -She stood a moment with the knob of the shop door in her hand. All the -nerve she could muster was wanted to venture within. But she did go in, -and she felt a keen relief when a hasty glance told her that Uncle Si -was not there. - - - - -XXXIII - - -JUNE had a further moment of indecision while she thought -out what her line must be. She resolved to go direct to her room and -pack her box. Afterwards she must find William and enlist his help in -bringing it downstairs, and then she would get a taxi and drive off -with her things before Uncle Si discovered his loss. Otherwise...! - -Her mind had not time to shape the grisly alternative, before the -immediate course of events shaped it for her. Suddenly she was aware -of a presence lurking in the dark shadows of the shop interior. It was -couchant, vengeful, hostile. Almost before June could guess what was -happening it had sprung upon her. - -With astounding force her right wrist was grasped and twisted behind -her back. She gave a little yelp of pain. A second yelp followed, as -she struggled to free herself, only to find that she was locked in a -vice, and that to fight against it would be agony. - -“Now, where is it?” The low voice hissing in her ear was surely that of -a maniac. “Where’s the picture?” The grip upon her had the strength of -ten. “Where is it--eh?” As the question was put, her captor shook her -fiercely. “Tell me.” He shook her again. “Oh, you won’t--won’t you?” -And then she realized that there was something in his hand. - -She called wildly for William, but there was no response. - -“No use lifting up your voice. The boy’s out.” - -She fought to get free, but with a wrist still locked, she was at his -mercy. “Now then, where’s that picture? Won’t tell me--eh?” There was -madness in that depth of rage. - -Quite suddenly there came a sickening crash upon her shoulders. She -let out with her heels and found the shin of the enemy, she fought and -screamed, yet pinned like that, she felt her wrist must break and her -arm be wrenched from its socket. - -“Where is it--you thief?” The stick crashed again, this time in a -series of horrible blows. So severe was the pain that it seemed to -drive through her whole being. She began to fear that he meant to kill -her; and as the stick continued to descend she felt sure that he would. - -She was a strong, determined girl, but her captor had her at a hopeless -disadvantage. His strength, besides, was that of one possessed. Her -cries and struggles merely added to his savagery. - -“Tell me where it is or I’ll knock the life out of you.” - -Utterly desperate, she contrived at last to break away; and though -with the force of a maniac he tried to prevent her escape, somehow -she managed to get into the street. He followed her as far as the -shop door, brandishing the stick, hurling imprecations upon her, and -threatening what he would do if she didn’t bring the picture back at -once. - -Bruised and gasping, June reeled into the darkness. Feeling more dead -than alive, she lingered nearby after the old man had gone in, trying -to pull her battered self together. She badly wanted her box, yet the -only hope of getting it now was by means of the police. As things were, -however, it would not be wise to ask their help. The old wretch was so -clever he might be able to make her out a thief; besides, for the time -being she had had more than enough of this horrible affair. - -Cruelly hurt she moved at last with slow pain towards the Strand. -By now she had decided that her most imperative need was a night’s -lodging. Before starting to look for one, however, the enticing doors -of a teashop gave her a renewed sense of weakness. Gratefully she went -in and sat down, ordering a pot of tea and a little bread and butter -which she felt too ill to eat. - -Nearly half an hour she sat in the company of her thoughts. Hard, -unhappy thoughts they were. Without one friend to whom in this crisis -she could turn, the world which confronted her now was an abyss. The -feeling of loneliness was desolating, yet, after all, far less so than -it would have been were she not fortified by the memory of a certain -slip of paper in her purse. - -A slow return of fighting power revived a spark of natural resolution -within her. After all, a potent weapon was in her hands. She must think -out a careful plan of turning it to full account. And at the worst she -was now beyond the reach of Uncle Si. Even if he kept her box and all -its contents, weighed in the scale of the picture’s fabulous worth, her -modest possessions amounted to very little. - -Stimulated by this conclusion, she began to forget her aches. When a -waitress came June asked for her bill. It was sixpence. She put her -hand in the pocket of her coat. Her purse was not there. - -With a little thrill of fear, she felt in the pocket on the other side. -The purse was not there either. She was stunned. This was a blow far -worse than those she had just received. She grew so dazed that as she -got up she swayed against the table, and had to hold on by it to save -herself from falling. - -The waitress who had written out the bill caught a glimpse of scared -eyes set in a face of chalk. - -“Aren’t you well?” she asked. - -“I--I’ve lost my purse,” June stammered. “It’s fallen out of my pocket, -I think.” As with frantic futility she plunged her hand in again, she -was raked by the true meaning of such a fact in all its horror. Unless -her purse had been stolen on the Underground, and it was not very -likely, it had almost certainly fallen out of her pocket in the course -of the struggle with Uncle Si. - -It was lying now on the shop floor unless the old wretch had found it -already. And if he had he would lose no time in examining its contents. -He had only to do so for the cloak-room ticket to tell him where -the Van Roon was deposited, and to provide him with a sure means of -obtaining it. - -“You may have had your pocket picked.” - -June did not think so. Yet, being unable to take the girl into her -confidence, she did not choose to disclose her doubts. - -“Perhaps I have,” she gasped. And then face to face with the extreme -peril of the case, her overdriven nerves broke out in mutiny. She burst -into tears. “I don’t know what I’ll do,” she sobbed. - -The waitress was full of sympathy. “Your bill is only sixpence. Come in -and pay to-morrow.” - -Through her tears June thanked her. - -“’Tisn’t my bill, although it’s very kind of you. There was something -very important in my purse.” - -“Where did you have it last?” - -“In the booking hall, when I took a ticket from Victoria to Charing -Cross.” - -“Your pocket’s been picked,” said the waitress with conviction. -“There’s a warning in all the Tubes.” - -The comfort was cold, yet comfort it was of a kind. June saw a wan ray -of hope. After all, there was a bare possibility that inexorable Fate -was not the thief. - -“I’d go to Scotland Yard if I were you,” said the waitress. “The -police often get back stolen property. Last year my sister’s house was -burgled, and they recovered nearly everything for her.” - -June began to pull herself together. It was not hope, however, that -braced her faculties, but an effort of will. Hope there was none of -recovering the purse, but she was now faced by the stern necessity -of getting back the picture. In the light of this tragedy it was in -most serious peril. Delay might be fatal, if indeed it had not already -proved to be so. She must go at once and get possession of the treasure -lest it be too late. - -The waitress was a good Samaritan. Not only could the bill wait until -the next day, but she went even further: “Is your home far from here?” -she asked. - -“My home--far?” said June, dazedly. For the moment she did not -understand all that was implied by the question. - -“If you live on the District, and you haven’t a season, I don’t mind -lending you a shilling to get you home.” - -June accepted a shilling with earnest thanks. In the circumstances, it -might be worth untold gold: “You can give it me back any time you are -passing,” said the waitress, as June thanked her again and made her -way unsteadily out into the street. - -The chill air of the Strand revived her a little. She had decided -already that she must go at once to Victoria. Every minute would count, -and it now occurred to her that if she took the Underground, several -might be saved. - -To the Underground in Trafalgar Square she went. It was the hour of the -evening rush. Queues were lining up at all the booking office windows. -And at the first window she came to, some three persons or so ahead -of her, was a figure oddly familiar, which, however, in her present -state of disintegration she did not recognize at once. It was clad in a -sombre tail coat of prehistoric design, jemima boots, frayed shepherd’s -plaid trousers braced high and a hard square felt hat which gave a -crowning touch of oppressive respectability. Moreover, its progress was -assisted by a heavy knotted walking stick, at the sight of which June -gave an involuntary shiver. - -An instant later the shiver had developed into a long and paralyzing -shudder. Uncle Si was just ahead of her; in fact she was near enough to -hear a harsh voice demand almost with menace a ticket to Victoria. - -June’s worst fears were realized. The purse had fallen from her pocket -to the shop floor in the struggle; the old wretch had found it, -deciphered the precious ticket, put two and two together, and was now -on his way to claim the parcel. All this was crystal clear to her swift -mind. She felt a strong desire to faint, but she fought her weakness. -She must go on. Everything was as good as lost--but she must go on. - -She took her ticket. And then in the long subway to the platform she -raced on ahead of Uncle Si. He was so near-sighted that even had he -been less absorbed in his own affairs he would not have been likely to -notice her. - -June reached the platform well in front of the old man. But the train -to Victoria was not in. It arrived two minutes later; by then, Uncle Si -had appeared, and they boarded it together. She was careful, however, -not to enter the same compartment as the enemy. - -Short as the journey was, June had ample time to appreciate that the -odds were heavily against her. The mere fact that the cloak-room -receipt for the parcel was in the custody of Uncle Si would confer -possession upon him; it had only to be presented for the Van Roon to be -handed over without a question. - -The one chance she had now was to get on well ahead of the old beast, -and convince the clerk that in spite of the absence of the ticket the -parcel was hers. She knew, however, only too well that the hope of -being able to do this was frail indeed--at all events before the holder -of the ticket arrived on the scene to claim it. - -At Victoria, June dashed out of the train even before it stopped. -Running past the ticket collector at the barrier and along the subway -she reached the escalator yards in front of Uncle Si, and, in spite -of being unused to this trap for the unwary, for Blackhampton’s more -primitive civilization knew escalators not, she ascended to the street -at a pace far beyond the powers of the Old Crocodile. By this means, -indeed, she counted on gaining an advantage of several minutes, since -it was hardly likely that Uncle Si would trust himself to such a -contrivance, and in ignorance of the fact that she was just ahead, -would choose the dignified safety of the lift. - -So far as it went the thought was reassuring. Alas, it did not go far. -As June ran through the long station to the cloak-room at its farthest -end, she had but a very slender hope of being able to recover the -parcel. She had no intention, however, of submitting tamely to fate. In -this predicament, whatever the cost, she must make one last and final -effort to get back her treasure. - -At the cloak-room counter she took her courage in both hands. A man -sour and elderly had replaced the wearer of the green corduroy, who was -nowhere to be seen. This was a piece of bad luck, for she had hoped -that the nice-looking young man might remember her. Happily, no other -passengers besieged the counter at the moment, so that without loss of -time June was able to describe the parcel and to announce the fact that -the ticket she had received for it was missing. - -Exactly as she had foreseen the clerk raised an objection. Without a -ticket she couldn’t have the parcel. “But I simply must have it,” said -June. And spurred by the knowledge that there was not one moment to -lose in arguing the case, she boldly lifted the flap of the counter and -entered the cloak-room itself. - -“No use coming in here,” said the Clerk, crustily. “You can’t take -nothing away without a ticket.” - -“But my purse has been stolen, I tell you,” said June. - -“Then I should advise you to go and see the station-master.” - -“I can’t wait to do that.” And with the defiance of despair, expecting -each moment to hear the voice of Uncle Si at her back, June ignored -the Clerk, and proceeded to gaze up and down the numerous and heavily -burdened luggage racks for her property. - - - - -XXXIV - - -“NOT a bit o’ use, don’t I tell you.” The Clerk was growing -angry. - -June pretended not to hear. Her heart beating fast she went on with -her search for the parcel; yet in the midst of it she grew aware that -somebody was approaching the counter. She dare not pause to look who it -was, for she knew only too well that it was almost bound to be Uncle Si. - -The Clerk uttered another snarl of protest as he turned away to attend -to the new comer. As he did so, June breathed a prayer that her eye -might fall on the parcel in that instant, for her only hope now was -to seize it and fly. That, however, was not to be. She had omitted to -notice the place in which it had been put, and do as she would she -could not find it now. - -At this crucial moment, there emerged from the inner office her friend -of the green corduroy. She simply leapt at what was now her one -remaining chance. - -“Oh, I’m so glad you’ve come,” cried June, in a voice that was a little -frantic: “You remember my bringing a brown paper parcel here, don’t -you--about two hours ago?” - -The tone, tinged as it was with hysteria, caused Green Corduroy to look -at June with mild astonishment. “I’ve lost the ticket you gave me for -it, but I’m sure you remember my bringing it.” Her brain seemed on -fire. “Don’t you remember my giving you a ten shilling note? And you -had to go and get the change.” - -Green Corduroy was a slow-brained youth, but a knitting of the brow -seemed to induce a hazy recollection of the incident. But while the -process was going on, June gave a glance over her shoulder, and behold -there was Uncle Si the other side of the counter. A second glance told -her, moreover, that Crusty Sides already had the fatal ticket in his -hand. - -What must she do? It was not a moment for half measures. While she was -stirring the memory of Green Corduroy, the treasure would be gone. She -did not hesitate. Observing Crusty Sides wheel, paper in hand, with -the slow austerity of one of the Company’s oldest and most respected -servants towards a luggage rack near by, June seized the clue. Of a -sudden her eyes lit on the parcel at the top of the pile. Already the -responsible fingers of Crusty Sides were straying upwards, yet before -they could enclose the Van Roon, June made a dash for it, and managed -to whisk it away from under his nose. - -Her brain was like quicksilver now. She had a mad impulse to rush off -with the treasure without further explanation; all the same she was -able to resist it, for she realized that such a course would be too -full of peril. - -“Yes--this is it,” she said in an urgent whisper to Green Corduroy. And -as she spoke, with a presence of mind, which in the circumstances was a -little uncanny, she slipped behind a large pile of boxes out of view of -Uncle Si. - -“Surely you remember my bringing it?” - -Green Corduroy seemed to think that he did remember. At this point -Crusty Sides, with an air of outrage, sternly interposed. “But a pawty -claims it. And here’s his ticket.” - -“The ticket’s mine,” said June, in a fierce whisper. “It’s been taken -from my purse.” - -“Nothin’ to do with us, that ain’t,” said Crusty Sides. - -“But you _do_ remember my bringing it, don’t you?” Beseechingly -June turned to Green Corduroy. And he, that nice-looking young man, -with a frown of ever-deepening perplexity, slowly affirmed that he -thought he did remember. - -“The ticket’s what we’ve got to go by,” said Crusty Sides, sternly. -“Nothin’ else matters to us.” - -“If you’ll look at it,” said June to Green Corduroy, “you’ll see that -it’s made out in your writing.” - -Green Corduroy looked and saw that it was. As far as he was concerned, -that seemed to clinch the argument. And even Crusty Sides, a born -bureaucrat, was rather impressed by it. “You say this here ticket’s -been taken off on you?” he asked. - -“Yes,” said June in an excited whisper. “By my wicked thief of an -uncle.” - -Instantly she regretted the imprudence of her words. - -“Uncle a thief, eh?” proclaimed Crusty Sides, in a voice of such -carrying power that to June it seemed that the Old Crocodile could -hardly fail to hear him. - -“Anyhow, this gentleman knows that it was I who brought the parcel,” -she said, determinedly to Green Corduroy. - -That young man looked her straight in the eye, and then declared that -he did know. Further, like many minds “slow in the uptake,” when once -in motion they are prone to deep conclusions. “Seems to me, Nobby,” he -weightily affirmed, under the stimulus no doubt of being addressed as -a gentleman, in the Company’s time, by such a good-looking girl, “that -as this lady has got the parcel, and we have got the ticket for it, she -and Uncle had better fight it out between ’em.” - -“I don’t know about that,” growled Nobby. - -Green Corduroy, however, stimulated by the fiery anguish of June’s -glance, and no doubt still in thrall to the fact that she considered -him a gentleman, was not to be moved from the statesmanlike attitude he -had taken up. “You let ’em fight it out, Nobby. This lady was the one -as brought it here.” - -“I gave you a ten shilling note, didn’t I?” The voice of June was as -honeyed as the state of her feelings would permit. - -“Yes, and I fetched the change for you, didn’t I?” - -Crusty Sides shook a head of confirmed misogyny. “Very irregular, -that’s all I’ve got to say about it.” - -“Maybe it is, Nobby. But it’s nothing to do with you and me.” - -Green Corduroy, with almost the air of a knight errant, took the -all-important slip of paper from his colleague. Flaunting it in gallant -fingers, he moved up slowly to the counter. - -S. Gedge Antiques, buying spectacles on nose, knotted cudgel in hand, -was impatiently waiting. “The parcel is claimed by the lady who brought -it,” June heard Green Corduroy announce. - -She waited for no more. Following close behind Crusty Sides, who also -moved up to the counter, she slipped quietly through an adjacent door -to the main line platform before Uncle Si grew fully alive to the -situation. - -Clasping the parcel to her bosom, she glided swiftly down the platform, -and out by the booking hall, travelling as fast as her legs would take -her, without breaking into a run, which would have looked like guilt, -and might have attracted public notice. She did not dare to glance -back, for she was possessed by a fear that the old man and his stick -were at her heels. - -Once clear of the station itself, she yielded to the need of putting as -much distance between Uncle Si and herself as a start so short would -permit. There was now hope of throwing him off the track. Thus, as soon -as she reached the Victoria Street corner, she scrambled on to a bus -that was in the act of moving away. - -One seat only was vacant and, as in a state of imminent collapse she -sank down upon it, she ventured for the first time to look behind her. -She quite expected to find Uncle Si at her elbow already, but with a -gasp of relief she learned that the old man was nowhere in sight. - - - - -XXXV - - -JUNE did not know in which direction the bus was going. And -when the conductor came for her fare, which he did as soon as the -vehicle began to move, she was quite at a loss for a destination. There -was nothing for it but to draw a bow at a venture. She asked for Oxford -Circus, the only nodal point of the metropolis, besides Charing Cross, -with which she was familiar. By a rare piece of luck, Oxford Circus was -included in its route, and what remained of the shilling the girl at -the teashop had given her was sufficient to get her there, and leave -four pence in hand. - -Alighting at Oxford Circus, she stood under a lamp to consider what she -should do now. There was nowhere she could go, there was not one friend -to whom she could turn. Battered and spent in body and spirit by all -that had happened to her during the last few hours she was now in a -flux of terror to which she dare not yield. - -At first she thought of seeking advice of a policeman, but it would -have been extremely difficult just then to tell her strange story. Its -complications were many and fantastic; besides, and she trembled at the -idea, it was by no means clear that she would be able to establish her -claim to the Van Roon in the eye of the law. - -Still, something would have to be done. She must find a home of some -kind not only for her treasure, but for herself. Feeling desperately -in need of help, she decided as a preliminary measure to spend three of -her four remaining pence on a cup of tea. She had a vague hope that in -that magic beverage inspiration might lurk. - -The hope, as it chanced, was not vain. Near by was an A.B.C. shop; and -she had hardly sat down at one of its marble-topped tables when, by an -association of ideas, her mysterious acquaintance, Mr. Adolph Keller, -sprang again into her mind. He had given her his address. Alas, the -slip of paper on which it was written was in her purse, but she had a -particularly good memory, and by raking it fiercely she was able to -recall the fact that his place of domicile was Haliburton Studios, -Manning Square. - -She did not like trusting any man on an acquaintance so slight, -especially as it had come about in so odd a fashion, but Mr. Keller -had shown himself very friendly, and there was no one else to whom she -could turn. Sipping her cup of tea, in slow and grateful weariness, she -began to develop this idea. Horse sense, Mr. Boultby had always said, -was her long suit; therefore she well understood the peril of taking a -comparative stranger into her confidence. But very cogently she put to -herself the question: What else could she do? - -Of sundry policemen, who were very obliging, June asked the way to -Manning Square. It was in Soho, not so very far from Oxford Circus, as -she remembered Mr. Keller saying, and, in spite of a local fog which -had come on in the last twenty minutes, the police were so helpful that -she had no great difficulty in getting there. During the short journey -her mind was much engaged in settling just what she would and would -not say to Mr. Keller. She decided that as far as might be practicable -she would leave the picture out of the case. It might not be possible -to exclude it, but at any rate she would begin by offering to sit to -him as a model, in accordance with his suggestion; and with that the -pretext of her visit she would see if she could get him to lend her a -little money to tide over immediate needs. - -By the time she had come to Manning Square it was a few minutes past -seven. Two complete circuits had to be made of this dingy, ill-smelling -gap in the heart of Soho, before she came upon Haliburton Studios, -which were not in the Square itself, but in a dismal by-street -debouching from it. The tall block of buildings which comprised the -studios was equally dismal, and as June entered a vestibule that shewed -no light, she felt a sudden chill strike at her heart. - -This, however, was not a moment to quail. It was a case, if ever there -was one, of any port in a storm. The hazard of her errand fell upon -her like a pall, but the knowledge that she had only a penny left with -which to obtain a night’s lodging was a veritable barb in the flesh. - -Try as she would she could not recall the number of Mr. Keller’s -studio; nor was the information to be found upon the walls of the -vestibule which she was not able to see. But while she stood at -the foot of a winding flight of stone steps, striving to meet the -difficulty which faced her now, she heard someone coming down. At the -sound she went back to the door by which she had entered, where a lamp -contending feebly against the fog, would enable her to see anyone who -passed out of the flats. - -The person who did so proved to be one of June’s own sex, a youngish -woman whose fur coat seemed to accentuate a note of tawdry and -flamboyant finery. Even in the semi-darkness June could see that her -face was rouged. - -She had no illusion as to the kind of person she addressed: - -“You want Mr. Keller’s studio?” The woman peered into June’s face in a -manner which she felt to be decidedly objectionable. “It’s the second -door on the first landing.” The tone, offhand, and more than a little -contemptuous, was like a blow in the face. - - - - -XXXVI - - -IT was not until the woman had passed out of the vestibule -into the street that June could find courage to mount the stone stairs. - -The knocker on the second door was so crazy that it threatened to break -off in her hand. Tact and skill were called for to draw sound from -it at all; bell there was none; but a faint light percolated through -the fanlight and it was a glimpse of this which heartened June to -persevere. By dint of application she was able to coax a few sounds out -of the knocker, a feat which at last brought reward. The beam beyond -the fanlight expanded; there was a shuffle of approaching slippers; and -then the door came open. - -Mr. Keller, wearing a dressing gown in lieu of a coat, stood before her. - -“Hulloa!” he said. - -Before June could find words of her own she had been recognized: -“Why--it’s you!” The gentlemanly voice sounded most agreeable. “Walk -right in. You’re welcome as the flowers in May.” - -Tossed by the tempest as Mr. Keller’s visitor still was, she could not -help contrasting such a welcome with the air and manner of Uncle Si. - - - - -XXXVII - - -THE geniality of Adolph Keller had a tonic effect upon June’s -depression. She crossed his threshold with a sense of extreme relief, -as one who finds a refuge from the storm. He closed the door of the -flat, and then led the way into a spacious room with a high ceiling -which was fixed up as a studio. - -It was not without an air of comfort. The main part had been screened -off; within a small but seductive inner space a bright fire mingled -pleasant gleams with the radiance of the electric lamp. Two low wicker -chairs were set invitingly near the hearth, and a table piled with -books and magazines was between them. Amid these, however, space had -been found for a tobacco jar, a siphon, a glass and a bottle of whisky. -On the floor was a French novel, which he had laid down open to let her -in. - -Mr. Keller, evidently, was making himself comfortable for the night. -The contrast between this snug and cheerful room and the rising fog, -from which June had just escaped, struck her at once as delightful. -With a little sigh of gratitude, she sank at the cordial invitation of -her host into the first of the easy chairs. - -He remembered her quite well, of course, yet for the moment he had -forgotten her name, and what to June was the more surprising, the -appointment she had made with him for that very afternoon seemed to -have passed right out of his mind. Yet she was quick to see, for her -wits were now working at high pressure, that this strange forgetfulness -was in her favour. At any rate, it was going to help her in the task of -keeping, as far as possible, the Van Roon out of the case. - -“Lyons’, wasn’t it, we met at? One day last week? Your name’s----?” - -“I’m Miss Gedge.” June’s tone was a shade “stand off,” for that -appeared to be correct in the circumstances. - -“Miss Gedge--yes--of course. Stupid of me to forget.” He fixed the eye -of a man with a sense of humour upon this odd visitor. “I’ve a shocking -memory for names. Very glad to see you, anyhow, Miss Gedge.” He took -the low chair opposite with the calm and easy air of a model host. “And -very nice of you to come on a damp and foggy night.” - -The tone, rather than the words, put it up to June to explain her -coming. She did so rather awkwardly, with a touch of “nerves.” Yet -before committing herself to any positive statement as to why she was -there, she was careful to dispose the parcel she carried as far beyond -the range of his eyes as was possible at the side of the wicker chair -in which she sat. - -“You told me the other day”--She found it impossible to control the -queer little tremble in her voice--“that you wanted an artist’s model, -and that my hair was just the colour you were looking for.” - -“By Jove, yes,” he laughed. “Your hair’s topping.” The laugh deepened -to enthusiasm. “It’s the colour I want, to a hayseed.” An eye of veiled -appraisement passed slowly over her. “And what’s almost as important -there’s stooks of it.” - -“Yes, there is,” said June, doing her best to pick up his light tone of -intimacy. “It is important, I suppose, for an artist’s model to have -hair long and thick.” - -“Ra-ther!” As he looked at her sideways, out of the corner of one eye, -his tone seemed to change a little; and then he got up alertly from his -chair, the mantle of the model host again upon him. “I’m afraid there’s -not much to offer you in the way of refreshment. There’s only whisky. -If you’ll excuse me a minute, I’ll fetch another glass.” - -“Oh, no, please, not for me,” said June quickly. She was very tired and -horribly depressed, but she had been strictly brought up. - -The host seemed a little amused by her vehemence. He looked at her -keenly with a pair of curious, small, near-set eyes, which June liked -even less now than when she had noticed them first. “Well, have a -cigarette, anyhow. These are like mother’s milk.” And he offered a box -of Virginia. - -June also declined a cigarette, in the same odd, rather fluttered tone -which caused him to smile in a way that added to her nervousness. - -“No? Well, make yourself comfy, anyhow. Draw your chair up to the fire.” - -She thanked him in a voice which, in spite of itself was a little prim, -and which assured him that she was quite warm enough where she was. The -attempted lightness and ease had gone; a subtle sense of fear, bred of -hidden danger yet without any root in fact or logic, was rising in her. -The position itself was embarrassing, yet so far Mr. Keller had shown -no wish to presume upon it. Up till now he had been easy and charming; -but June, in spite of worldly inexperience, had the intuitions of -her sex to guide her; and she felt instinctively that there might be -a great deal behind these graces. She was grateful all the same; they -were much needed balm for many bruises. - -When Mr. Keller sat down again in the wicker chair, about two yards -away from her, a sense of languor crept upon June. The warmth of the -fire, the glow of the lamp, the notes of a singularly quiet voice were -like a subtle drug. Alive to danger as she was, its caress was hard to -resist. Such a position was one of acute peril, for she was literally -throwing herself upon the mercy of a person who was very much an -unknown quantity, yet what alternative was there? - -“Don’t mind a pipe, I hope?” The polite voice from the chair opposite -was not really ironical; it was merely kind and friendly, yet feminine -intuition shivering upon the dark threshold of a mighty adventure knew -well enough how easily a tone of that kind could turn to something else. - -“Oh no, I don’t mind at all.” She tried again to get the right key, -but a laugh she could not control, high-pitched and irrelevant, was -horribly betraying. - -“That’s all right then.” - -For about a minute, Mr. Keller puffed away in a sort of whimsical -silence. Then he said with a soft fall, whose mere sweetness had the -power to alarm, “Your hair’s jolly. Very jolly indeed!” - -June nervously muttered that she was very glad he liked it. - -“So much of it, don’t you know. Awfully useful to me just now. -Quantity’s almost as valuable as the colour. Does it reach your waist -when you let it down?” - -June, not without a little pride, said that her hair when let down -reached below her waist. - -“Capital!” said Mr. Keller, with a laugh. “The very thing I’m looking -for just now. You’ll make a stunning Andromeda.” - -June had not heard of Andromeda. She had read some Dickens, and a -little George Eliot, and she could remember bits of Shakespeare learned -at school, but her tastes were not literary. She pretended to know all -about Andromeda, yet the next words of Mr. Keller were a proof that he -was not deceived. June did not know, however, that he had pierced clean -through her ignorance. - -“She’s the altogether. A classical subject.” - -“I like classical subjects myself.” Abruptly June’s mind went back to -Miss Preece, the revered head mistress of the Blackhampton High School -where it had been her privilege to spend one term. Her voice rose a -whole octave, in its involuntary desire to approximate as closely as -possible to that of a real lady. - -“So do I.” Mr. Keller’s humorous purr was that of a man well pleased. -“That’s capital.” - -“You can’t beat classical subjects, can you?” said June, making a wild -attempt to achieve the conversational. - -Again Mr. Keller looked across at her out of those near-set eyes of -which by now she was rather afraid. “No, you can’t,” he said. “So large -and so simple, and yet they strike so deep. They are life itself. A -sort of summing up, don’t you know, of all that has been, all that can -be, all that will be.” - -June responded with more composure than she had yet shewn that she -supposed it was so. It was nice to listen to talk of this kind from -a man of Mr. Keller’s polish. The chair was most comfortable, and how -good it was to be in front of the bright fire! Her nerves were being -lulled more and more as if by a drug; the sense of her peril amid this -sea of danger into which she had plunged began to grow less. - -“I expect,” said Mr. Keller, in a tone so friendly and so casual that -it fed the new sense of peace which was now upon June, “I expect you -are pretty well used to the altogether?” - -Even if she did not know in the least what was meant by “the -altogether,” it did not seem to be quite wise to confess such -ignorance. “Ye-es, I suppose I am.” And in a weak attempt to rise to -his own agreeable plane of intimacy she laughed rather foolishly. - -“Capital!” said Adolph Keller. “You are a well built girl.” He sipped a -little whisky. “Excellent shoulders. Figure’s full of fine lines. Bust -well developed. Plenty of heart room. Everything just right.” - -She coloured at the literal way in which he catalogued her points; even -if it was done in the manner of an artist and a gentleman, one was a -little reminded of a dog or a horse. - -“I’ll fix you up a screen. And then you can get ready.” He sipped a -little more whisky, and rose briskly and cheerfully. “Near the fire; -it’s real chillsome to-night. And when you pose you can sit on top of -it if you like.” He opened the lid of the coal box, and replenished the -fire. “We must take care you don’t catch cold. If you feel a draught, -you can have a rug round your knees. I only want to make a rough sketch -of the lines of the figure, to begin with; the shoulders chiefly. It -won’t take long. Quite sure you won’t have a finger?” He pointed to the -whisky. “Buck you up a bit. You look rather down.” - -June was quite sure that she would not have a finger. Mr. Keller passed -beyond the screen into the studio itself to procure a second screen. -June felt this activity to be alarming. It brought her up against the -fact that she was there in the capacity of an artist’s model. Suddenly -it dawned upon her that she was expected to take off her clothes. - - - - -XXXVIII - - -MR. KELLER cleared a space near the fire, and elaborately -arranged a second screen, which June did not fail to notice was -decorated with nude figures. - -“There you are,” he said. “That’ll keep you snug. And if you sit on a -stool by the fire with a rug over your knees, you’ll be as warm as a -kitten.” - -June paled, but she did not speak. - -“Begin as soon as you like, the sooner the better. Are you quite sure -you won’t have just a spot?” Again he pointed to the bottle on the -table. “You look as if you want a drop of something.” - -Once more June declined the offer in a voice which in her own ear -seemed absurdly small and faint. - -“Pity,” said Mr. Keller cheerfully, as he looked at her. “It’d put some -life in you.” And then, as she was still inert, he went on in a tone -which pleasantly mingled gentlemanliness and business, “I always pay a -sovereign an hour, you know--for the altogether.” - -A light of fear came into June’s large eyes. “Does it mean,” she asked, -shyly and awkwardly, as she looked away from him, “that I shall have to -take off my clothes?” - -“Why, of course,” he said, matter-of-factly. Her obvious embarrassment -was not lost upon him, but the knowledge did not appear in his manner. - -June shivered slightly. In that shiver a deep instinct spoke for her. -“I couldn’t do that,” she said. - -“Why not?” He lit a cigarette. “Aren’t you well?” - -June was very far from well. She felt within an ace of being overcome -by all that had happened to her. Besides her bruised shoulders were -still aching horribly. Even without the deep instinct that governed -her, it would not have been possible to expose them. - -“No-no,” she said, “I--I’m not well.” - -As she spoke, she had to fight a powerful desire to burst into tears. -But her latent fear of this man had suddenly grown. Overdriven as she -was, however, she was yet conscious of a stern need to keep a hold upon -herself. She knew nothing, less than nothing of her host, beyond the -fact that he was smooth of speech. On the surface he was a gentleman, -but as he stood looking down at her now she glimpsed in his dark eyes -that which seemed to countervail everything. - -Again she shivered. The sense of helplessness was paralyzing. It was -as if a chasm had abruptly opened right under her feet. She was at his -mercy. But she must not give one thought, so long as a spark of will -remained with her, to the possibility of throwing herself upon it. - -He continued to stand looking at her while she fought against a welling -weakness that must have been only too patent. Then, as if a little -puzzled by her, he went and fetched a glass from another part of the -studio. He poured out a small quantity of spirit and offered it neat. - -“Drink this. It’ll do you good.” - -His voice, for the first time, had the grip of authority. He held the -glass to her lips, but as if containing deadly fumes they shrank from -contact with it. - -“Don’t be a little fool.” The sharp tone was like the touch of a whip. -“Why don’t you do as you are told?” - -She had not the strength to resent the command even if she was able to -muster the power to resist it. - -“Look here,” he said, confronted by a limit to patience. “Why have you -come? What’s the matter with you? Tell me.” - -She remained mute. There was nothing she could tell. A lodging for -the night, food, advice, protection were what she sought. Dominated -completely as she was by hard necessity, she yet dare not confide in -Keller. The subtle change that had come upon him since he had fixed up -the screen and poured out the whisky filled her with an intense longing -to get away. In spite of a growing weakness, which now threatened dire -collapse, the subtle feelers of her mind were on the track of danger. - -With a slow gathering of will that was a form of agony, she tried to -collect the force to rise from the perilous comfort of the low wicker -chair. But she was not able to rouse herself to action before the -effort had been nipped by his next remark. - -“If you’ve no intention of sitting to me, you’d better say in two words -why you’ve come here.” - -The voice was no longer smooth; there was a cutting edge to it, -lacerating to June’s ear. - -“I wanted you to lend me a sovereign.” - -It was the literal truth. But the unguarded words slipped from her -before she could shape or control them. Almost before they were uttered -she realized their bitter unwisdom. - -“You can have a sovereign--if that’s all you want.” His tone grew -light again. “But it’s only fair and reasonable that you should earn it -first.” - -Strive as she would, she was not able to keep a faint dew of tears from -filming her eyes. - -“No need to take off more than your bodice, if that’s what’s troubling -you.” - -With her shoulders on fire, she could not take off her bodice, even had -she wished to do so. - -She sat inert while he continued to stand before her. The thread of -will she still had, fully concentrated though it was on getting away -from him, was now unequal to the ugly challenge of his voice and eyes. - -“Let me go,” she half whimpered. - -Suddenly, in her own despite, her defences had begun palpably to fail. -The blunder was fatal--if the cry of nature overdriven can be called a -blunder. His eyes pinned hers. Trembling under the spell of their hard -cunning she began to perceive that it was now a case of the serpent and -the bird. - -A frown darkened his face as he cast back to the first meeting with -this girl. He tried to recall their conversation in the teashop two -days ago. At the time it had interested him considerably, but he had -laughed over it since, and decided to dismiss it from his mind. She had -told him a cock-and-bull story about a picture. He could not recall -the details of an absurd yarn which had not seemed worth his while to -remember. At the best it was a bald and unconvincing narrative. But it -concerned a Rembrandt. No, not a Rembrandt. A Van Roon! - -With a heightening of curiosity, Adolph Keller gazed at the hunted -creature now shrinking from his eyes. By Jove, she looked as if she had -been through it! Something pretty bad must have happened to her quite -recently. But why had she come to him? - -Thoughts of the picture set his active mind to work. She had come to -him because she was in want of money. So much, at least, was clear. -To judge by the look of her, she had probably, at a moment’s notice, -been turned out of house and home. A domestic servant, no doubt, and -no better than she should be, although a certain taste about her -much-rumpled clothes and an attempt at refinement of manner suggested -the wish to rise above her class. - -In the midst of this quick mind process, Adolph Keller saw the brown -paper parcel. It was in the place where his visitor had laid it when -she had first sat down. He noticed that she had cunningly reared it by -the farther side of her chair, so that it might be beyond the immediate -range of his eye. - -Keller’s pulse quickened, yet he allowed no hint of his intriguing -discovery to shew in his manner. Once again it changed towards his -guest. The tone of sharp authority vanished. Twisting a dark moustache -round strong, yet delicate fingers, his air of extreme gentlemanliness -verged upon the sugary, as he said: “I don’t like to see you like this. -I don’t really.” - -The tone’s unexpectedness, perhaps even more than its kindness, moved -June to further tears. - -“You had better tell me, hadn’t you, just what’s upset you?” - -She shook miserably. And then, thrown off her guard, by this new note -of concern, she found the courage to venture again: “Please lend me a -sovereign and let me go. I promise solemnly to pay it back.” - -He smiled in a way obviously to reassure. “What’s your hurry, my dear -girl?” Soft, as were the words, they yet caused the design to fail. - -Their non-effect was clearly visible in the girl’s tragic eyes. She -was caught in a trap; all his trimmings and posturings seemed only to -emphasize the fact that she had no means of getting out. - -Like a powerful drug the brutal truth attacked her brain. It was as if -its higher nerve centres could no longer act. She was completely in the -power of this man. And only too well did she know that he knew it. - -Inevitably as fate, those slim fingers dipped towards the side of her -chair. “What have we here?” The inflexion was lightly playful, yet it -drove all the blood from her heart. “May I look?” His hand closed on -the parcel before she could muster one futile finger to stay it. - -Galvanized, as if by electricity, she sprang up from her chair without -knowing what she did. “Please--it’s mine!” Without conscious volition -she tried weakly to defend her property. - -He put her off with the cheery playfulness of a teasing brother. “Just -one little peep,” he said. The treasure was yielding its wrappings -already to those deft fingers. Smiling all the time, he treated the -thing as a mere joke. And he was able to give the joke full effect, -because, not for an instant did he expect it to turn out anything else. - - - - -XXXIX - - -ADOLPH KELLER gave a low whistle. He took in his breath quickly. -The treasure, in its rare incredible beauty, had declared -itself to his eyes. And to the eyes of an artist, wholly unready -for the revelation, it came in a single devastating flash. - -“My God!” he said, in a whisper, half rapture, half surprise. - -Aglow with excitement he removed the shade from the electric lamp. -Holding the picture beneath the light, an arm’s length away from his -eyes, he turned it over several times in that fashion of the expert -which June had now learned to dread. And then humming softly, and with -his fingers still enclosing it, he passed beyond the screen to a table -on which lay a microscope. - -With a feeling of nausea, June watched everything he did. Only too well -she knew that the microscope would simply feed his excitement. In a -fresh spasm of weakness, she reeled against the chimneypiece. She had -now the sensation of having fallen over a precipice into a bottomless -pit. Already she was sinking down, down, down into night and damnation. - -Keller soon returned, microscope in hand; and while he plied it under -the lamp she dare not glance at his face. Passively she waited for his -next words. The power of action had left her. - -When, at last, he did speak, his voice was calmer and gentler than she -looked for. “Tell me,” he said, “how did you come by this rather jolly -old thing?” - -The tone of playfulness was almost silly. But she was not deceived, for -striking through it was the oiliness of Uncle Si. And she knew that she -had only to glance at that face shining pale under the lamp, which was -a thing she dare not do, to carry the resemblance farther. - -“Tell me,” he repeated softly. - -A sense of destiny seemed to weigh her down. - -“It has been given to me.” Her voice was hardly audible. - -“Given to you.” He smiled a little, as his mind went off in search -of the half forgotten fragments of their talk two days ago. “Let me -see--your best boy, wasn’t it?--who made you a present of a picture--by -a well known R. A.?” - -June did not know how to answer, yet she was able to realize that an -answer of some kind was imperative. - -“That’s it,” she said. There was nothing else she could say. - -“I rather like this thing, do you know.” His voice was acquiring a -sort of growing brightness which seemed quite to admit her to his -confidence. “It might almost have been painted by the snuffy old -Scotsman--one MacFarlane by name--who first shewed me how to draw. -It’s just in his manner. By Jove!”--The voice of Adolph Keller seemed -to glow with humour--“I can almost see that cantankerous whiskyfied -old fool daubing that water and those trees. But in his day not a bad -painter, you know, not a bad painter.” And the voice of the pupil -tailed off in a note of reluctant affection of which he seemed half -ashamed. - -It was June’s turn to say something, but her frozen lips could not -utter. - -Keller, holding the picture in both hands, gave her a side look, -which he tried, as far as he could, to conceal. In the midst of this -scrutiny, he said: “To you, I expect, one picture is very much the same -as another?” - -“I know what I like,” June was able to answer, perhaps for no better -reason than that by now she understood only too well that it hardly -mattered what she answered. - -“Well, anyhow, that’s something,” said Keller, with a forced laugh. -“Great thing to know your mind in these little matters. Nice of your -best boy--was your best boy, wasn’t it?--to give you this. Not that -it’s worth much to the ordinary buyer. Pictures are like lovers, you -know. Their beauty, sometimes, is in the eye of the beholder.” - -It sickened her to hear him lie in this way. The deadly sensation of -falling, falling, falling came over her again. But she let him run on. -For one thing she lacked the power to check him; and even had the power -been hers it would have been worse than futile to try to do so. - - - - -XL - - -“LOOK here,” said Adolph Keller, in the midst of his prattle. -“I’ve taken rather a fancy to this bit of a thing. Suppose you let me -have it. I’ll give you a landscape in exchange; I’ve one or two that -are not so bad, and you shall have your pick. Moreover,” and he fixed -June with a steady eye, “you shall have your sovereign as well.” - -She shook her head tensely. Inclination now wished to tell him the -fabulous worth of the picture; but prudence said no. The calculated way -in which he had lied was proof enough that he knew its value already. -She held out her hand. In a voice dry and choking she said: “Please -give it to me. I ought to be going.” - -He gazed at her with the eye of a condor. “Much better take what you -can get for it, hadn’t you? It’ll be a difficult thing to sell, you -know. This is quite a fair offer.” - -“Give it me, please,” June gasped miserably. - -“Don’t be a little fool.” - -The tone was like the closing of a door. She knew at once that he had -not the remotest intention of giving it back to her. And what followed -immediately upon the words made the fact only too clear. He laid the -picture on a table some little distance away, and then pouring out a -quantity of spirit he drank it neat. His next act was to produce a case -from which he took forth a pound note. - -“Here you are,” he said roughly. “Take this and be jolly thankful. And -then make yourself scarce, as soon as you like.” - -It was an intimation that there was going to be no more pretence. -The tone was that of a cynical bully who judged it to be best for -both parties that the owner of the Van Roon should now be given an -unmistakable perception of reality. - -Overdriven as June was, the knowledge that at the very last she was -to be robbed of the fruits of her hard-won victory was more than she -could bear. Faced by this man’s cool insolence and mean cunning, she -was swept by a tide of rage. He knew that she could have no proof of -ownership, and he was going to reap a full advantage from the fact. At -that moment, of an unendurable bitterness, she was spurred and lashed -by the same Devil which two hours ago had driven Uncle Si to frenzy. - -“The picture’s mine,” she cried hoarsely. And then, advancing towards -the table. “Give it me ... you thief!” - -At the ugly word he recoiled a step, but the next instant he grabbed -her by the wrists. In the struggle to get free, she felt his evil -breath upon her face. Many a dram must have gone to so much foulness; -as his powerful grip slowly fastened upon her there came swift -knowledge of a new and more urgent peril. - - * * * * * - -She was alone with this man in his own flat. Utterly without a means -of defence as she was, she had been mad enough to offer him a physical -challenge. In a few seconds she would be at his mercy. And then, -inflamed by drink, and being the kind of beast that he was he would -insist upon the spoils of the victor. - -Before she was fully alive to what was taking place she found herself -forced slowly backwards to the wall. She knew then that she was -fighting for her life, and for that which in this unspeakable moment -implied so much more. - -“I’ll teach you to come here, you----!” His face was that of a maniac. - -She gave a shriek of terror and lashed out wildly at his shins. -Fighting like a tigress, at first she kept him at bay. The power of his -hands was terrific, but she did not scruple to use the weapons nature -had given her. After a long and horrible minute of claws, teeth and -feet, in the course of which she bit him savagely, it grew reasonably -clear to Adolph Keller that if only she cares to use it, the female of -the species does not lack a means of defence. - -“You beauty!” he gasped, as he struggled to shift his grip upon her. - -Goaded by the furies he found his way at last to her throat. And then -she felt that he was going to kill her. Moreover, as his madman’s grip -began slowly to distil her life through its fingers, he perceived how -simple a matter it was going to be. - - - - -XLI - - -KELLER’S own defences were almost down, but just in the nick -of time was he able to realize this fact. And man of calculation that -he was, even in this moment of madness, when each devil in his soul -conspired for his final overthrow, he was able, by dint of underlying -coolness of blood to make a powerful effort to save himself. - -He longed to kill this wretched girl, but as he pressed his fingers -into the soft and delicate throat, he was stayed by thoughts of the -price that would have to be paid for wreaking an insane passion upon -her. - -For a wild instant he feared that the premonition had come too late; -the primordial beast in his heart had slipped its chain. Already it -had tasted blood. In this frenzy of revolt, the fetters imposed by -centuries of civil life were hardly likely to be submitted to again. - -Gasping and helpless June felt that she was dying. The clutch upon her -was that of the garotte. Her eyes began to darken. Clawing the air for -the breath she could not draw, the end that seemed inevitable now was -yet far off. - -At last, as if responding to her prayer, a kind of stupor came upon -her. But how tardily! Brain, heart, soul, body contended no more -against a power beyond their own; at last her slow life was ebbing. The -end of torment indescribable would be akin to joy. - -Æons seemed to pass. A flicker of summer lightning, ages off, came -and was not. So faint it was and so far that it could only be reckoned -in terms of eternity. More light flickered which, of a sudden, grew -miraculously near. The vivid sense of pain returned; she grew alive to -the fact that the harsh glare of the electric bulb, which was still -unshaded, was beating down upon her eyes. - -Powerful arms were about her, she was being supported. The fumes of -raw spirit were in her nostrils, a glass was pressed against her lips. -She fought again to get free, only feebly now, for this was but a last -reaction of a dying will. Yet the final word of all was nature’s. When -mind itself had ceased to count, the life-force grasped wildly at the -proffered means of life. - -“Thank God!” she heard a thick voice mutter. “I felt sure you were a -goner.” - -A livid face, whose eyes seemed to blind her own, materialized suddenly -before her. “Drink it up, damn you!” said the voice hoarsely. “And then -get out--you----!” - -It was insult for the sake of insult, and therefore the full measure of -her victory. But it meant less than nothing to June now. She scarcely -heard, or hearing did not comprehend. Beyond pain and suffering, beyond -good and evil her torn spirit only craved release. - -As soon as the fire in the glass had kindled her veins this desire -was met, less, however, by the operation of her own will than by the -will of Keller. As if she had been a noisome reptile whom his flesh -abhorred, and yet had a superstitious fear of killing, he dragged her -out of the room, along the short passage as far as the door of the -flat. Slipping back the catch, he flung her out on to the landing. - -As she fetched up against the iron railing opposite the door, which -guarded the well of the staircase, she heard a low hiss: “Take yourself -off as soon as you like, you----, or you’ll find the police on your -track.” - - - - -XLII - - -JUNE had no idea of the time that she lay in a huddle against -the railing. But it may not have been so long in fact as it was in -experience. Shattered she might be, yet unknown to herself, there was -still a reserve of fighting power to draw upon. - -Cold iron, moreover, and raw air had a magic of their own. Clear of -that mephitic room and the foul presence of Keller, a fine human -machine began slowly to renew itself. Except for a faint gleam from -the room out of which she had just come, stealing through the fanlight -of the door out of which she had been flung, there was not a sign of -light upon the staircase. The entire building appeared to be deserted. -Its stone-flagged steps were full of echoes as soon as she ventured to -move upon them; and when clinging to the railing for support she had -painfully descended two she entered a region of total darkness. - -It was like going down into a pit. Could she have only been sure that -death awaited her below, she might have been tempted to fling herself -into it headlong. But she knew that the ground was not far off. - -Three or four steps more brought her to the vestibule. At the end of it -was a door, open to the street. Outside this door shone a faint lamp, -round which weird shadows circled in a ghostly witch-dance. The night -beyond was a wall of horrors, which she had lost the will to face. - -Met by this pitiless alternative, she recoiled against the wall of the -vestibule, huddling in its darkest corner, behind the stairs. Crouching -here, like a hunted thing at bay, she fought for the courage to go out -and face her destiny. - -She fought in vain. Half collapsed as she now was, a spur was needed to -drive her into the grim wilderness of the open street. One glance at -the crypt outside sufficed to tell her that with no point to make for, -it would be best to stay where she was and hope soon to die. - -Why had she not had the sense to throw herself down the stairs and kill -herself? A means would have to be found before the night was out. She -could bear no more. A terrible reaction was upon her. It was as if a -private door in her mind had suddenly given way and a school of awful -phantoms had rushed in and flooded it. - -She was living in a nightmare that was too bad to be true. But it was -true and there lay its terror. Adrift in the dark canyons of that vast -city, penniless and alone, with the marks of thieves and murderers upon -her bruised body, and her treasure stolen, there was only one thing to -look for now. - -Death, however, would not be easy to come by. As she huddled in cold -darkness in the recess behind the stairs she felt that her will was -going. To enter the night and make an end would need courage; but a -miserable clapping together of the jaws was sign enough that the last -hope of all was slipping away from her. - - - - -XLIII - - -COWERING in body and spirit in that dark corner, time, for -June, became of no account. Perhaps, after all, she might be allowed to -die where she was. As a kind of inertia crept upon her she was able to -draw something of comfort from the thought. It would be better than the -river or being run over in the street. - -She grew very cold; yet a lowering of the body’s temperature induced a -heightened consciousness. Aches and pains sprang into life; the forces -of her mind began to reassert themselves; the phantoms about her took -on new powers of menace. Gradually it became clear to June, under the -goad of this new and sharper phase of suffering, that mere passivity -could not induce the death she longed for. - -No, it was not in that way the end would come. She would have to go -into the shadow-land beyond the lamp, and seek some positive means of -destroying herself. For that reason she must hold on to the fragment -of will that now remained to her. It alone could release her from the -awful pit in which she was now engulfed. - -She gathered herself for an effort to move towards the fog-encircled -light at the entrance to the street. But the effort, when made, -amounted to nothing. Her limbs were paper, all power of volition was -gone. - -The October raw struck to her blood. She began to whimper miserably. To -pain of mind was added pain of body, but the delicate apparatus from -whose harmony sprang the fuse of action was out of gear. Something must -be done; yet no matter how definite the task, any form of doing was -beyond her now. - -At this dire moment, however, help came. It came, moreover, in an -unlooked-for way. She heard a door slam over head. There was the sound -of a match being struck, and then came a gingerly shuffle of feet on -the stone stairs. - -Someone was coming down. June cowered still lower into the dark recess -at the back of the stairway. A man was approaching. And by the flicker -of the match which he threw away as he reached the floor of the -vestibule she saw that the man was Keller. - -Faint and but momentary as was the glimpse afforded, June, with every -sense strung again to the point of intensity, saw that under Keller’s -arm was a brown paper parcel. The sight of it was like a charm. Some -fabulous djinnee might have lurked in that neat package, who commanded -a miraculous power of reaction upon the human will. - -Keller struck a second match and peered into the shadows. June knew -that he was looking to see if she had lingered there, but the light -could not pierce to the corner in which she crouched; and it burnt -itself out, leaving him none the wiser. - -Without striking another match Keller moved away from her towards the -doorway, and as he did so June felt a swift release of heart and brain. -A thrill of new energy ran through her. No sooner had Keller passed out -of the vestibule, beyond the lamp into the fog, than without conscious -impulse or design she began to follow him. - -It may have been the reasoned act of a lucid being, but at first it -did not appear to be so. Once, however, her limbs were moving, all her -faculties, now intensely awake, seemed as if by magic to bear them -company. As soon as she reached the open street, with Keller a clear -ten yards ahead, the keen air on her face had an effect of strong wine. -Her nerves felt again the sense of motion; the impulse of the natural -fighter unfurled strong pinions within her. All the virile sense and -the indomitable will of a sound inheritance rallied to her need. - -Growing sensibly stronger at every yard, she followed Keller round the -corner into Manning Square. The mist was thick, the lamps poor and few, -but as well as she could she kept on his track. Lurking pantherlike in -the deep shadows of the house-walls, she had approached within five -yards of him by the time he had turned the corner into a bye-street. -He went a few yards along this, and then zigzagged into a squalid -ill-smelling thoroughfare whose dismal length seemed unending. - -June had no difficulty in keeping up with these twists and winds, for -Keller, impeded by the fog, moved slowly. For her, however, the fog had -its own special problem, since there was a danger of losing him if he -was allowed to get too far ahead; and yet if his steps were dogged too -closely there was always the fear that he might turn round suddenly and -see her. - -At last the interminable street seemed to be nearing its end. For -June, whose every faculty was now strung up to an unnatural acuteness, -saw but a short distance in front the brightly lit awning of the -Underground looming through the fog. - -In a flash she realized the nature of the peril. Only too surely was -this the bourn for which Keller was making. Once within its precincts -and her last remaining hope would be gone. - -It must be now or never. The spur of occasion drove deep in her heart. -She knew but too well that the hope was tragically small, but wholly -desperate as she was, with the penalty of failure simply not to be met, -she would put all to the touch. - -Closer and closer she crept up behind the quarry. But the entrance to -the Tube loomed now so near that it began to seem certain that she -must lose him before she could attempt what she had to do. Abruptly, -however, within ten yards or so of his goal, Keller stopped. He began -to search the pockets of his overcoat for a box of matches to relight -his pipe which had gone out. While so doing, and in the preoccupation -of the moment, he took the parcel from under his right arm, and set it -rather carelessly beneath his left. - -Providence had given June her chance. Like a falcon, she swooped -forward. Aim and timing incredibly true, at the instant Keller struck a -match and bent over his pipe, her fingers closed on the Van Roon, and -whisked it out of his unguarded grasp. - - - - -XLIV - - -AS June turned and ran she heard a wild and startled oath. -Before her was the eternal fog-laden darkness of the narrow street. But -now it struck her with a thrill of pure terror that the mist was not -thick enough to conceal her flight. The swift surprise of the onset had -gained for her a start of a few yards, but instantly she knew that it -would not suffice. - -She ran, all the same, as if her heart would burst. But her legs seemed -to wear the shackles that afflict one in a dream. Her most frantic -efforts did not urge them on, and yet, in spite of that, they bore her -better than she knew. Not a soul was in sight. She could hear Keller’s -boots echo on the damp pavement as they pounded behind her. It could -only be a matter of seconds before his fingers were again on her -throat. But this time, before robbing her of the Van Roon and getting -clear, he would have to kill her. - -The vow had hardly been made, when at the other side of the street -she saw a thread of light. It came from a house whose door was open. -Instinctively she turned and made one final dash for it. This was the -last wild hope there was. - -A man, it seemed, was in the act of leaving the house. Wearing overcoat -and hat, he stood just within the doorway peering into the murk before -venturing out. June flung herself literally upon him. - -“Save me! Save me!” she was able to gasp. “A man! A man is after me!” - -The house was of the poverty-stricken kind whose living room opens on -to the street. June had a confused vision of a glowing lamp, a bright -fire, a dingy tablecloth and several people seated around it. Her wild -impact upon the man who was about to put off from its threshold drove -him backwards several paces into the room. At the same instant a female -voice, loud and imperious, rose from the table. - -“Shut the door, Elbert, can’t yer? The fog’s comin’ in that thick it’ll -put out the perishin’ fire.” - -The bewildered Elbert, raked fore and aft by fierce women, -automatically obeyed the truculent voice at his back, even while he -gave ground in a collision which seemed to rob him of any wit that he -might possess. With a deft turn of the heel, he dealt the door a kick -which effectually closed it in the murderous face of the halting and -hesitating Keller. - -June, shuddering in every vein, clung to her protector. - -“Gawd-love-us-all!” Cries and commotion arose from the table, yet -almost at once the imperious voice soared above the din. “Set her down, -can’t yer, Elbert? Didn’t yer see that bloke?” - -“Ah--I did,” said Elbert, stolidly pressing his queer armful into a -chair near the fire. - -“Better git after him lively,” said the voice at the table. “He’s the -one as did in Kitty Lewis last week.” - -Elbert, a young man six feet tall and proportionately broad of -shoulder, was not however a squire of dames. With a scared look on a -face that even in circumstances entirely favourable could hardly rank -as a thing of beauty, he moved to the door and slipped a bolt across. -“Not goin’ near the----” he said, sullenly. “Not goin’ to be mixed up -wiv it--not me.” - -The voice at the table, whose owner was addressed as Maw, proceeded “to -tell off” Elbert. He was a skunk, he was no man, he was a mean swine. -In the sight of Maw, who ran to words as well as flesh, Elbert was all -this and more. She rose majestically, threatening to “dot him” if he -didn’t “’op in,” and she came to June with an enormous bosom striving -to burst from its anchorage, an apron that had once been white, and -with her entire person exuding an odour peculiar to those of her sex -who drink gin out of a teacup. - -Three other people were at the table, and they were engaged upon a meal -of toasted cheese, raw onions and beer. Of these, two were girls about -sixteen, scared, slatternly and anæmic; the third was a toothless hag -who looked ninety; and as the whole family, headed by Maw, suddenly -crowded round June, the terrified fugitive, shuddering in the chair by -the fire, hardly knew which of her deliverers was the most repulsive. - -June fought with every bit of her strength against the threat of total -collapse that assailed her now. In the desperate hope of warding off -disaster, she gathered the last broken fragment of will. But nature -had been driven too hard. For the second time within the space of one -terrible hour, she lost the sense of where she was. - - - - -XLV - - -THE faces, with one exception, had receded into the background, -when June returned slowly and painfully to a knowledge of what -was happening. Maw was bending over her, and holding a cracked cup -to her lips, and also “telling off” the others with a force and a -scope of language that added not a little to June’s fear. - -Perhaps the smell of its contents had quite as much effect upon the -sufferer as the cup’s restorative powers. It was so distasteful to one -who had been taught to shun all forms of alcohol, that a sheer disgust -helped to bring her round. - -At first, however, her mind was hardly more than a blank. But when, -at last, a few links of recognition floated up into it out of the -immediate past and hitched themselves to this strange present, a shock -of new terror nearly overwhelmed her again. Recollection was like a -knife stab. The Van Roon! The Van Roon! Where was it? Oh, God--if she -had not got it after all! - -The thought was pain, pure and exquisite. But the case did not really -call for it. She was clutching the Van Roon convulsively to her breast -like a child holds a doll. As she wakened slowly to this fact her brain -wonderfully cleared. - -The mind must be kept alive, if only to defend this talisman for whose -sake she had already suffered so outrageously. She did not know where -she was, and the evil presence holding the foul cup to her lips, and -those other evil presences filling the background beyond gave her an -intense apprehension. - -Maw, however, in spite of a general air of obscenity, meant well. It -was not easy for this fact to declare itself through that loud voice -and ruthless mien; but gradually it began to percolate to June’s -violated nerves, and so gave her a fleck of courage to hold on to that -sense of identity which still threatened at the first moment again to -desert her. - -“Where was you goin’, deery?” - -Rude the tone, but when June’s ear disentangled the words, she was able -to appreciate that they were spoken in the way of kindness. But if the -knowledge brought a spark of comfort it was quickly dowsed. Where was -she going? To that grim question there was no possible answer. - -“Scared out of her life, poor lamb!” said Maw. With furtive truculence -she announced the fact to the rather awed spectators who gathered once -more about the sufferer. - -“Where you come from?” - -June’s only answer was a shiver. The frozen silence was so full of the -uncanny that Maw shook her own head dismally and tapped it with a grimy -finger. - -In the view of Maw, for such a calamity there was only one remedy. Once -more the cup was pressed to June’s lips; once more it was resisted, -this time with a hint of fierceness reassuring to the onlookers, -inasmuch that it implied a return of life. - -“Looks respectable,” said the cracked voice of the crone, who was now -at Maw’s elbow. - -“Where was you goin’?” demanded Maw again. - -June was beyond tears, or she would have shed them. Now that the facts -of the situation in all their hopelessness were streaming back to her, -a feeling of sheer impotence kept her dumb. - -“Off her rocker,” said Elbert gloomily. - - - - -XLVI - - -AMID the silence which followed Elbert’s remark, June fought hard to -cast her weakness off. She wanted no longer to die. The recovery of the -talisman inhibited, at least for the time being, that desire. Acutely -aware that the Van Roon was still miraculously hers, she felt that come -what might she must go on. - -But her position was hopeless indeed. She dare not venture out of -doors, with a murderous thief waiting to spring upon her. And if -venture she did, there was nowhere she could go. Besides, had there -been any place of refuge for such a weary bundle of frightened misery, -without money and with a sorry ignorance of the fog-bound maze of -bricks and mortar in which she was now lost, there would have been no -means of getting to her destination. - -At the same time, she had no wish to stay with these uncouth, -ill-looking, evil-smelling people one moment longer than was necessary. -In a curiously intimate way she was reminded of that grim story Oliver -Twist, which had so powerfully haunted her youth. To her distorted -mind, this squalid interior was a veritable thieves’ kitchen, the crone -a female Fagin, the angel of the cup, a counterpart of Bill Sikes, and -the gloomy, beetle-browed Elbert a kind of Artful Dodger grown up. She -and her treasure could never be safe in such a place, yet at the other -side of the door nameless horrors awaited her. - -In June’s present state it was far beyond her power to cope with so -dire a problem. Keeping a stony silence as those faces, devoured by -curiosity, pressed ever closer upon her, she half surrendered to her -weakness again. - -Amid the new waves of misery which threatened to submerge her, she -was wrenched fiercely back to sensibility. The Van Roon was torn by -a strong hand from her grasp. As if a spring had been pressed in her -heart she rose with a little cry. Maw was in the act of handing the -picture to Elbert. “There’s a label on it, ain’t there?” she said. - -Still half stupefied, June clung to the table for support, while -Elbert, who was evidently the family scholar, read out slowly the name -and address that was written upon the parcel: “Miss Babraham, 39b Park -Lane, W.” - -June was hardly in a state just then to grasp the significance of the -words. Her mind was wholly given up to concern for the treasure which -had passed to alien hands. And yet the words had significance, even for -her, as the mind-process they induced soon began to reveal. - -A locked door of memory, of which she had lost the key, seemed to glide -back. Thoughts of William, of his friend, the tall, beautiful and -distinguished wearer of the blue crepe de chine, and of Sir Arthur, her -father, came crowding into her brain. And with them came a perceptible -easing of spirit, as if they had been sped by the kindly hand of that -Providence, of whom she had never been so much in need. - -The recognition of this acted upon her like a charm. Girt by the -knowledge that she was not alone in the world after all, and that -friends might be at hand if only she could reach out to them, her mind -began once more to function. - -Even while Maw and Elbert were occupying themselves with the parcel’s -address and its specific importance, June was fain to inquire of an -awaking self how such magic words came to be there at such a moment. -Casting back to recent events, over which oblivion had swept, she was -able to recall certain strands in the subtle woof of Fate. Days ago, -years they seemed now, Miss Babraham had sent to William a picture -frame to be restored. The stout brown paper in which it had been -wrapped appealed to June’s thrifty soul, and she had stowed it away in -her box for use on a future occasion. Her mind’s new, almost dangerous -clarity, enabled her to remember that upon the paper’s inner side was -an old Sotheran, Bookseller, Piccadilly label which bore the name and -address of Miss Babraham. - -The piecing together of this slender chain gave June the thing she -needed most. At this signal manifestation of what Providence could do, -hope revived in her. If only she could get to Park Lane--wherever Park -Lane might be!--to Miss Babraham. - -As if in answer to the half-formed wish, Maw’s dominant voice took up -the parable. “Elbert, you’d better see this lidy as fur as Park Lane.” - - - - -XLVII - - -ELBERT did not welcome the prospect with open arms. Nature had -not designed him for such a task. All the same, Maw was imaged clearly -in his mind as one whose word was law. - -At the best of times, Elbert’s obedience to that word was apt to be -grudging. And to-night, with murder lurking outside in the darkness, he -was full of a disgusted reluctance at having to face such a prospect. -Even in circumstances wholly favourable to it, the countenance of -Elbert was not attractive; to June at this moment it was very much the -reverse. She felt that its owner was not to be trusted an inch. - -Meanwhile her mind was growing very active. Miss Babraham’s name and -address, that magic omen, was like an elixir; it quickened the blood, -it strengthened the soul. If only she could bear her treasure to Park -Lane all might yet be well! - -Urged by this spur, native wit sprang to her aid. The first thing to be -done was to get clear of present company. She was haunted still by the -likeness to Fagin’s kitchen; but also there was a recollection of the -fact that a Tube Station was only a few yards along the street. That -was the haven wherein salvation lay. - -Pressing hard upon the hope, however, was the dismal knowledge that -only one penny remained in her pocket. This sum could not take her to -Park Lane, unless that Elysium was close at hand. Alas, it was not at -all likely. Her ignorance of London was so great, moreover, that she -would need help to find her way there; and in the process of obtaining -it in her present state of weakness she might be caught by new perils. -For it was only too likely that Keller was lurking outside in the fog, -waiting to spring upon her and tear the Van Roon from her grasp at the -first chance that arose. - -Beset by such problems, June felt that she was between the devil and -the deep sea. Perhaps the best thing she could do was to dash along the -street to the Tube, and then put herself in the hands of the nearest -policeman. But even to attempt such a feat was to run a grave risk. - -Elbert, in the meantime, scowling and disgruntled, was bracing himself -under further pressure from Maw to brave the perils of the night. June -felt, however, that it would be wise not to saddle herself with this -reluctant champion if it could be avoided. To this end, she was now -able to pluck up the spirit to ask what was the best means of getting -to Park Lane. - -Maw did not know, but Elbert when appealed to said that she could take -the Tube to Marble Arch, or she might turn the corner at the end of the -street and pick up a bus in Tottenham Court Road. - -How much was the fare? Twopence, Elbert thought. Alas, June had only -a penny. She was painfully shy about confessing this difficulty, but -there was no help for it. - -“Don’t you worry, Miss. Elbert is goin’ to see you all the way.” And -Maw fixed a savage eye upon her son. - -Much as June would have preferred to forego the services of this -paladin, Maw’s ferocious glance settled the matter finally. - -“And you’ll carry the pawcel for the lidy,” said Maw, as Elbert, -scowling more darkly than ever turned up the collar of his overcoat. - - - - -XLVIII - - -THE Van Roon, at that moment, was in the hand of Maw. And -although June was on fire to get it back, her natural faculties had the -authority to tell her that undue eagerness would be most unwise. She -must be content to await her chance, yet there was no saying when that -chance would come; for Maw was careful to hand personally the parcel to -Elbert. - -Before June set out on her journey one of the girls pressed a cup of -tea from the family brew upon her. It was lukewarm and thrice-stewed, -but June was able to drink a little and to feel the better for it. She -was in a high state of tension, all the same, when Elbert opened the -street door, her treasure under his arm, and she followed close behind -him into the darkness. - -Surely Keller must be out there in the fog, waiting to attack them. Her -heart beat wildly as she marched side by side with Elbert along the -street towards the Tube. Distrust of her cavalier was great. Should he -guess the value of the thing he bore, as likely as not he would play -her a trick. But for the moment, at any rate, this fear was merged in -the sharper one of what was concealed by the fantastic shadow shapes -of that dark thoroughfare. Less than a hundred yards away, however, -was the Tube Station. And to June’s unspeakable relief they gained -its light and publicity without misadventure. Here, moreover, was her -chance. While Elbert searched his pockets for fourpence to purchase -two tickets for Marble Arch, she insisted on relieving him of the -parcel. Once restored to her care, she clung to it so tenaciously that -the puzzled Elbert had reluctantly to give up the hope of getting it -back again. - -Going down in the lift to the trains, with the surge of fellow -passengers guaranteeing a measure of safety, June allowed herself to -conclude that Elbert, after all, might be less of a ruffian than he -looked. If he had no graces of mind or mansion, he was yet not without -a sort of rude care for her welfare. By no wish of his own was he -seeing a distressed damsel to her home, yet the process of doing so, -once he grew involved in it, seemed to minister in some degree to a -latent sense of chivalry. At all events he had a scowl for anyone whose -elbows came too near his charge. - -Arriving at Marble Arch in due course, the heroic Elbert piloted the -fugitive out of the station and across the road into Park Lane. Here, -under a street lamp, they paused a moment to examine the label on -the parcel for the number of the house they sought. Thirty-nine was -the number, and it proved to be not the least imposing home in that -plutocratic thoroughfare. - -Elbert accompanied June as far as its doorstep. Before ringing the -bell she said good-bye to her escort with all the gratitude she could -muster, begging him to give her his name and address, so that she might -at least restore to him the price of her fare. Yet the squire of dames -saw no necessity for this. His scowl was softened a little by her -thanks, but his only answer was to press the electric button and then, -without a word, to slink abruptly away into the fog. - - - - -XLIX - - -JUNE felt a wild excitement, as she stood waiting for the -answer to her ring. The stress of events had buoyed her up, but -with Elbert no longer at her side and the door of a strange house -confronting her, trolls were loose once more in her brain. A fresh wave -of panic surged through her, and again she feared that she was going to -faint. - -The prompt opening of the door by a gravely dignified manservant acted -as a strong restorative. June mustered the force of will to ask if she -could see Miss Babraham. Such a request, made in a nervous and excited -manner, gave pause to the footman, who at first could not bring himself -to invite her into the large dimly lighted hall. Finally he did so; -closed the door against the fog, and then asked her name with an air of -profound disapproval, which at any other time must have proved highly -embarrassing. - -“I’m Miss Gedge,” said June. “From the second-hand shop in New Cross -Street. Miss Babraham’ll remember me.” - -The servant slowly repeated the fragmentary words in a low voice of -cutting emphasis. “I’m afraid,” he said, while his eye descended to -June’s shoes and up again, “Miss Babraham will not be able to see you -to-night. However, I’ll inquire.” - -Superciliously the footman crossed the hall, to discuss the matter -with an unseen presence in its farthest shadows. The conference was -brief but unsatisfactory, for a moment later the unseen presence slowly -materialized into the august shape of a butler, who seemed at once to -diminish the footman into a relative nothingness. - -“Perhaps you’ll let me know your business,” said the butler, in a tone -which implied that she could have no business, at any rate with Miss -Babraham, at such an hour. - -June, alas, could not explain the nature of her errand. These two men -were so imposing, so unsympathetic, so harsh, so frightening that had -life itself depended upon her answers, and in quite a special degree -she now felt that it did, she was yet unequal to the task of making -them effective. - -“Miss Babraham cannot see you now,” said the slow-voiced butler, with -an air of terrible finality. - -“But I must see her. I simply must,” wildly persisted June. - -“It’s impossible to see her now,” said the butler. - -The words caused June to stagger back against the wall. In answer to -her tragic eyes, the butler said reluctantly: “You had better call -again some time to-morrow, and I’ll send in your name.” - -“I--I must see her now,” June gasped wildly. - -The butler was adamant. “You can’t possibly see her to-night.” - -“Why can’t I?” said June, desperately. - -“She is going to a ball.” - -The words were like a blow. A vista of the fog outside and of -herself wandering with her precious burden all night long in it -homeless, penniless, desolate, came upon her with unnerving force. -“But--please!--I must see her to-night,” she said, with a shudder of -misery. - -Faced by the butler’s pitiless air, June felt her slender hope to be -ebbing away. She would be turned adrift in the night. And what would -happen to her then? She could not walk the streets till daybreak with -the Van Roon under her arm. Already she had reached the limit of -endurance. The dark haze before her eyes bore witness to the fact that -her strength was almost gone. No matter what the attitude of the butler -towards her she must not think of quitting this place of refuge unless -she was flung out bodily, for her trials here were nought by comparison -with those awaiting her outside. - -June’s defiance was very puzzling to the stern functionary who quite -plainly was at a loss how to deal with it. But in the midst of these -uncertainties the problem was unexpectedly solved for him. A glamour -of white satin, jewels and fur appeared on the broad staircase. Miss -Babraham descended slowly. - -Once more was June upheld by a sense of Providence. Hope flickered -again, a painful, fluctuating gleam. She sprang forward to intercept -this vision of pure beauty, wildly calling the name “Miss Babraham! -Miss Babraham!” - -The dazzling creature was startled out of her glowing self-possession: -“Why, who _are_ you?” she cried. - -In a gush of strange words, June strove to make clear that she was the -girl from the antique shop in New Cross Street, and that her uncle, -its proprietor, was a very wicked old man who was trying to steal a -valuable picture that had been given to her. She pressed the Van Roon -upon the astonished Miss Babraham and besought her to take care of it. - -After that, June had only a very dim idea of what happened. She found -herself in a sort of anteroom without knowing how she got there, with -faces of a surprised curiosity around her. Foremost of these was the -lovely Miss Babraham, a thing of sheer beauty in her ball-dress, who -asked questions to which June could only give confused replies, and -issued orders that she was not able to follow. - -Everything began to grow more and more like a wild and terrible dream. -Other people appeared on the scene, among whom June was just able to -recognize the tall form of Sir Arthur Babraham. By then, however she no -longer knew what she was doing or saying, for deep blanks were invading -her consciousness; even the treasure in which her very soul was merged -had somehow slipped from her mental grasp, and like everything else had -ceased to have significance. - - - - -L - - -AT eleven o’clock the next morning, Sir Arthur Babraham, -looking worried and distrait, was pretending to read the “Times.” If -ever a man could be said to have “been born with a silver spoon in his -mouth” it was this soft-voiced, easy-mannered, kindly gentleman. The -rubs of a hard world had hardly touched his unflawed surfaces. He sat -on committees, it was true, and played Providence at third or fourth -hand to less happily situated mortals; yet scarcely, if at all, had he -been brought face to face with the stark realities of life. - -It is never too late, however, for some new thing to occur. The -previous evening an experience had happened to this worthy man; and -he could not rid his mind of the fact that it was disconcerting. On a -table at his elbow was a picture without a frame, and more than once -his eyes strayed from the newspaper to this object, which at a first -glance was so insignificant, and yet as if cursed with an “obi” it had -the power to dominate him completely. - -In the midst of this preoccupation, Laura Babraham entered the room. -She had returned late from the dance, and this was her first appearance -that morning. Hardly had she saluted her father when her eye also fell -on the picture, and a look of deep anxiety came into her eyes. - -“Have you heard anything from the hospital?” she asked eagerly. - -“I rang them up half an hour ago,” said Sir Arthur. “The girl is very -ill indeed. I gather from the tone of the person with whom I talked -that the case is pretty serious.” - -“Yes,” said Laura Babraham, in a low voice. “One felt sure of that. -Never again do I want to see a human creature in the state that poor -thing was in last night. I’ve been haunted by her ever since.” - -“Pretty bad, I must say.” Sir Arthur plucked sharply at his moustache. -“According to the Hospital, she’s been knocked about and generally -ill-used. There are marks on her throat, and they want my opinion as to -whether they should communicate with the police.” - -“What do you advise, papa?” said Laura, with a growing concern. - -“One doesn’t know what to advise.” Sir Arthur’s moustache continued to -receive harsh treatment. “We are faced with rather a problem, it seems -to me.” - -“You mean that it will be a matter for the police if she doesn’t get -better?” - -“Yes, certainly that. And it may be a matter for the police if she does -get better.” - -Laura Babraham agreed; yet even then she did not see the problem in -its full complexity. Sir Arthur, taking the first step towards her -enlightenment, pointed to the Van Roon: “My dear, beyond any doubt -that is a most precious thing. And, ignoring for the moment the state -in which this young woman turned up last night, the question we have -to ask ourselves is: What is she doing with it at all? And why was she -ranging the streets alone, in the fog, at that hour?” - -“From what one gathered,” said Laura, “the picture is hers, and her -uncle, the old curio man in New Cross Street, with whom she lives, is -determined to steal it.” - -“Quite. That’s her story, as far as one can get at it. But I put it to -you, isn’t it far more likely--prima facie at any rate--that the girl -is trying to steal it from the old dealer?” - -“I believe the poor thing is speaking the truth,” said Woman in the -person of Miss Laura Babraham. - -“You mean, my dear,” said her logical parent, with a sad little smile, -“that you _hope_ she is speaking the truth. With all my heart I -hope so, too, even if it proves this old man--Gedge you say his name -is--to be a terrible scoundrel. One of them certainly is not playing -straight--but prima facie, as I say--if we call in the police, it is -almost certain that it is this wretched girl who will find herself in -prison.” - -“There I don’t agree, papa,” said Woman staunchly. “The poor thing -says that William the assistant gave her the picture; and in all the -dealings I have had with William in the course of the past year, he has -been honesty itself.” - -Her father shook his head gently. “All very well, but Master William is -the part of the story I like least. Is it probable, in the first place, -that a young man who almost certainly has no money of his own, would -be able to get possession of such a thing; and, again, assuming him to -be clever enough to do so, is he going to be such a fool as to give it -away to this girl? Let us look all the facts in the face. To my mind, -the more one thinks of it the more inevitable the plain solution is.” - -“I’m absolutely convinced that William, at any rate, is honest.” - -Sir Arthur frowned and opened his cigar case. “And I for my part am -convinced,” he said, with a sigh as he cut off the end of a Corona, -“that our friend William is a cunning scoundrel, who has been deep -enough to get this young woman to do the dirty work and run all the -risks, because he must know as well as anybody that a great deal of -money is at stake.” - -Laura Babraham had a considerable respect for her father’s judgment, -yet she knew the value of her own. She did not think it was possible to -be so deceived; her dealings with William had left her with the highest -regard for his straightforwardness; if he proved to be the despicable -creature Sir Arthur’s fancy painted him, never again would she be able -to hold an opinion about anyone. Yet her father’s analysis of the case, -as it presented itself to her clear mind, left her on the horns of a -dilemma. Either this young man was a fool, or he was a rogue. Beset by -two evils, she chose without hesitation that which to the feminine mind -appeared the less. - -“He’s always struck one as rather simple in some ways and too much -under the thumb of the old dealer, yet he’s really very clever.” - -Sir Arthur drew mental energy from his Corona. “Not clever enough to -keep honest, my dear.” - -“Please don’t prejudge him. That wicked old man is at the back of all.” - -“Well, that is just what we have now to find out.” - -Laura assented; yet then arose the question as to the means by which -the truth could be won. It was likely to resolve itself into an affair -of William’s word against the word of his master. Whoever could tell -the more plausible tale would be believed; and William’s friend saw -from the outset that Circumstance had already weighted the scales -heavily against him. On the face of it, the story as disclosed by the -poor girl who was now in the Hospital, was frankly incredible. - -Recollection of the pitiful scene of the previous night brought to -Laura Babraham’s mind her own urgent duty in the matter. The girl had -begged her not on any account to give up the picture. So long as sense -and coherence remained the unlucky creature had declared it to be her -own lawful property. Laura had solemnly promised to see justice done, -and it behooved her now to be as good as her word. - -“I suppose, papa, you have telephoned already to Mr. Gedge?” - -“The Hospital has, I believe,” said Sir Arthur. “I particularly asked -them to do so. The old fellow must be very anxious about the girl, and -perhaps even more anxious about his Van Roon.” - -“Please don’t say ‘his Van Roon’ before he’s proved the ownership.” - -“That won’t be difficult, I fear.” - -“We must make it as difficult for him as we can,” said the tenacious -Laura. - -Sir Arthur shook his head. As a man of the world, he had but scant hope -that the mystery would be cleared up in the way Laura desired. - - - - -LI - - -AT Number Forty-six, New Cross Street, the bottom seemed to -have fallen out of the world. June’s flight with the picture, as soon -as it became known to William, caused him not only intense pain, but -also deep concern. The news was a tragic shock for which he was quite -unprepared; and the behaviour of his master seemed, if possible, to -make it worse. The old man was distraught. Now that it was no longer -necessary to mask his intentions, prudence slipped from him like a -veil. On his return, baffled and furious, from Victoria he at once -accused William of being in the plot against him. - -William, hurt and astonished, was at a loss. He did not know all that -had happened; he had only the broad facts to go upon that June had run -off with the picture at an instant’s notice, without a word as to her -plans and leaving no address; and the bitter reproaches of his master -appeared to him the outpourings of a mind not quite sane. - -Such indeed they were. The truth was that upon one subject S. Gedge -Antiques was a little unhinged. The love of money, an infirmity which -had crept upon him year by year had begun to affect reason itself; and -now that, as it seemed, he had thrown away, by his own carelessness, -the one really big prize of his career, this dark fact came out. - -William, who found it very difficult indeed to think ill of anyone, -could only accept the broad fact that the picture had meant even more -to the old man than he had supposed; therefore this good fellow was -inclined to pity his master. It was not for a mind such as his, which -took things on trust, to fill in the details of a tragic episode. He -did not look for the wherefore and the why, yet he was very deeply -grieved by what had occurred. - -The old man could not rid his brain of the illusion that William had -connived with June. Under the lash of an unreasoning rage he did not -pause to consider the improbability of this, nor did he try to attain -a broad view of the whole matter; it was almost as if his resentment, -craving an outlet, must wreak itself upon the thing near at hand. Yet -in the course of a few hours this dangerous obsession was to bring its -own nemesis. - -About twelve o’clock the next day, M. Duponnet came to fetch the -picture. It had been arranged that Mr. Gedge should present the cheque -at the Bank in the meantime, and if duly approved, as there was every -reason to expect that it would be, the Van Roon should be handed over -at once. - -To the Frenchman’s surprise, he was now greeted by his own cheque, -backed by a livid countenance of tragic exasperation. The treasure had -been stolen. - -“Stolen!” - -The face of S. Gedge Antiques forbade all scepticism. - -“When? By whom?” - -Mussewer Duponny might well ask by whom! It had been stolen by the girl -who did the housework--the old man could not bring himself, in such -circumstances, to speak of her as his niece--and he had not the least -doubt in his own mind that the youth who helped him in the business -who, at that moment, was in the next room polishing chairs, had put her -wise in the matter, and was standing in with her. - -S. Gedge Antiques, still in a frenzy of frustration, was hardly able -to realize the gravity of this charge. Had he been in full command of -himself, he must have weighed such a statement very carefully indeed -before it was made. But remorselessly driven by his greed, he threw -discretion to the wind. - -The disgruntled purchaser was quick to seize upon the accusation. -To his mind, at least, its import was clear. Even if the seller did -not perceive its full implication, the buyer of the Van Roon had no -difficulty in doing so. - -“We must call in ze police, hein?” - -The words brought the old man up short. He proceeded to take his -bearings; to find out, as well as his rage would let him, just where he -stood in the matter. Certainly the police did not appeal to him at all. -It was not a case for publicity, because the picture was not his: that -was to say, having now reached a point where the law of _meum_ and -_tuum_ had become curiously involved, it might prove exceedingly -difficult and even more inconvenient to establish a title to the Van -Roon. No, he preferred to do without the police. - -M. Duponnet, however, unfettered by a sense of restraint, argued -volubly that the police be called in. The assistant was guilty or he -was not guilty; and in any event it would surely be wise to enlist the -help of those who knew best how to deal with thieves. Nothing could -have exceeded the buyer’s conviction that this should be done, yet to -his chagrin he quite failed to communicate it to S. Gedge Antiques. - -From that moment, a suspicion began to grow up in the Frenchman’s mind -that the seller was not laying all his cards on the table. Could it be -that he was telling a cock and bull story? According to Mr. Thornton, -who was acting as a go-between, this old man had long had the name of a -shifty customer. Undoubtedly he looked one this morning. Jules Duponnet -had seldom seen a frontispiece he liked less; and the theory now gained -a footing in his mind that the old fox wanted to go back on his bargain. - -There were two drawbacks, all the same, to M. Duponnet’s theory. In the -first place, as no money had yet changed hands, it would be quite easy -for S. Gedge Antiques to undo the bargain by a straightforward means; -and further, beyond any shadow of doubt, the old man was horribly upset -by his loss. - -“Let us go to ze bureau, Meester Gedge,” he said, as conviction renewed -itself in the light of these facts. - -“No, no, no,” cried the old man, whose brain, capable at times of a -surprising vigour, was now furiously at work. - -“But why not?” - -S. Gedge Antiques did not reply immediately, but at last a dark light -broke over the vulpine face. “Why not, Mussewer Duponny? I’ll tell you. -Because I think there may be a better way of dealing with that damned -young scoundrel yonder.” William’s master pointed towards the inner -room. “Happen the police’ll need all sorts of information we don’t want -to give them; and my experience is, Mussewer, their methods are slow -and clumsy, and out of date. They may take weeks over this job, and -long before they are through with it, the picture will be in America.” - -“You may be right, Meester Gedge. But where’s the ’arm in seeing what -they can do?” - -With the air of one whose faculties have been braced by a mental tonic, -the old man shook his head decisively. “Mussewer Duponny,” he said, in -a slow voice which gave weight and value to each word, “I’m thinking -with a little help from yourself and Mr. Thornton I can deal with -this--this scoundrel much better than the police.” - -“At your sairvice, Meester Gedge,” said Jules Duponnet, with a -dry smile. He could not have been the man he was, had he remained -insensitive to the depth of cunning which now transfigured the face of -the old dealer. “But for Meester Thornton of course I cannot spick.” - -“You can’t, of course,” said the old fox, briskly. “But we’ll go right -now, and have a word with Mr. Thornton on the subject.” - -Like one in whom a change sudden and mysterious has been wrought, S. -Gedge Antiques stepped through the house door into the passage, took -his hat and coat from the peg, and his heavy knotted walking stick out -of the rickety umbrella stand, put his head into the room next door and -said, in a harsh tone to the polisher of chairs, “Boy, I’m going along -as far as Mr. Thornton’s, so you’d better keep an eye on the shop.” - - - - -LII - - -THE old man, contrary to his practice, was a little late for -the midday meal, and he had a poor appetite for it. As he tried to eat -the cold mutton and the potato William had baked for him, his thoughts -seemed a long way from his plate. William himself, who was too full -of trouble to give much attention to food, now saw that the old man’s -earlier ferocity, which had hurt him even more than it had puzzled him, -had yielded to a depth of melancholy that was hardly less disturbing. -But the master’s manner, on his return from the visit to Mr. Thornton, -was far more in accordance with his nature, at least as William -understood that nature; indeed, his voice had recaptured the note of -pathos which seemed natural to it whenever the Van Roon was mentioned. - -“I ought to tell you, boy,” he said, in a husky tone, towards the end -of the meal, “that it looks as if there’ll be the dickens to pay over -this job. A French detective from Paris has been here, and he’s coming -again this afternoon to have a word with you.” - -“With me, sir?” - -The old man, whose eyes were furtively devouring the face of William, -was quick to observe its startled look. “Yes, boy, you’re the one he -wants to see. The Loov authorities have managed to get wind of this Van -Roon of ours, and they say it’s the feller they’ve been looking for -since 1898.” - -Easy to gull William in some respects was, yet, he could not help -thinking that the French Government took a little too much for granted. - -“I think so, too--but there it is,” said the old man. “They have to -prove the Van Roon is theirs, and that won’t be easy, as I told the -detective this morning. But I understand that the question of identity -turns upon certain marks, as well as upon similarity of subject.” - -William allowed that the subject had an undoubted similarity with that -of the picture stolen from the Louvre, but then, as he explained, -every known Van Roon had a strong family likeness. In size they varied -little, and they always depicted trees, water, clouds, and in some -cases a windmill. - -“Ours, I believe, had no windmill.” - -“No, sir, only water and trees, and a wonderful bit of cloud.” - -“I understand,” said the old man mournfully, “that the one that was -stolen from the Loov had no windmill.” - -“The other one in the Louvre has no windmill; there are two at -Amsterdam that have no windmill; and there’s one at The Hague, I -believe, that hasn’t a windmill.” - -“May be. These are all points in our favour. But, as I say, the whole -question will turn upon certain identification marks, and this French -detective is coming here this afternoon to examine it. So it seems to -me that the best thing you can do is to go off at once, and get it back -from that hussy, because you can take it from me, boy, that we are -going to be held responsible for the picture’s safety by the French -police; and if when the detective calls again all we have to say is -that it has vanished like magic, and we are unable to produce it, we -may easily find ourselves in the lock-up.” - -This speech, worded with care and uttered with weight, had the -effect of increasing William’s distress. Underlying it was the clear -assumption that he was in league with June, and this was intolerable -to him, less because of her strangely misguided action, than for the -reason that the master to whom he had been so long devoted found it -impossible to believe his word. - -“If only I knew where Miss June was, sir--” he said, miserably. - -The old man, with the fragment of caution still left to him, was able -to refrain from giving William the lie. It wasn’t easy to forbear, -since he was quite unable to accept the open and palpable fact that his -assistant was in complete ignorance of June’s whereabouts. So true it -is that the gods first tamper with the reason of those whom they would -destroy! - -S. Gedge Antiques was in the toils of a powerful and dangerous -obsession. He saw William in terms of himself; indeed, he was overtaken -by the nemesis which dogs the crooked mind. For the old man was now -incapable of seeing things as they were; the monstrous shadow of his -own wickedness and folly enshrouded others like a pall. One so shrewd -as William’s master, who had had such opportunities, moreover, of -gauging the young man’s worth, should have been the last person in the -world to hold him guilty of this elaborate and futile deceit; but the -old man was in thrall to the Frankenstein his own evil thoughts had -created. - -He was sure that William was lying. Just as in the first instance -the young man had given the picture to “the hussy”, he was now in -collusion with her in an audacious attempt to dispose of it. S. Gedge -Antiques was not in a frame of mind to sift, to analyze, to ask -questions; it seemed natural and convenient to embrace such a theory -and, urged by the demon within, he was now building blindly upon it. - -About three o’clock William was engaged in the lumber room putting -derelict pieces of furniture to rights, when his master came with a -long and serious face, and said that the French detective wanted to see -him. William put on his coat and followed the old man into the shop -where he found two persons awaiting him. With only one of these was -William acquainted. Mr. Thornton was well known to him by sight, but he -had not seen before the French dealer, M. Duponnet. - -With a nice sense of drama on the part of S. Gedge Antiques the -Frenchman was now made known to William as M. Duplay of the Paris -police. Midway between a snuffle and a groan, the old man, raising -his eyes in the direction of heaven, besought his assistant to tell -Mussewer all that he knew as to the picture’s whereabouts. - -William, alas, knew no more than his master; and he found no difficulty -in saying so. He was not believed, since the old man had had no scruple -in the blackening of his character, and the Frenchman, with a skilful -assumption of the manner of an official, which the others solemnly -played up to, proceeded to threaten the assistant with the terrors of -the law. - -The French Government was convinced from the description, which had -been given of the Van Roon by those who had seen it, that there could -be little doubt it was their long missing property. Such being the -case, the police were only willing to allow the young man another -twenty-four hours in which to produce it for examination. If he failed -to do that within the time specified, a warrant would be applied for, -and he might find himself in prison. - -In the face of this intimidation, William stuck to his story. He knew -no more than the dead where the picture was; Miss June, to whom it had -been given, had suddenly disappeared with it the previous night. - -“Who is Mees June?” said the Frenchman sharply. - -Miss June was the niece of Mr. Gedge. - -“And he gave the picture to her?” The disappointed buyer, who felt that -his suspicions in the matter were being confirmed, looked keenly from -the young man to the old. - -“No, sir,” said William, with the utmost simplicity. “I gave it to her -myself.” - -There was a pause, in which astonishment played its part, and then Mr. -Thornton gravely interposed: “How do you mean you gave her the picture? -It isn’t yours to give. It is the property of your master.” - -“You are forgetting, boy,” said the old man in a voice in which oil -and vinegar were wonderfully mingled, “that I would not allow my niece -to have such a valuable thing, and that you then made it over to me to -dispose of to the best advantage.” - -“I gave it to Miss June,” persisted the young man simply, “but I told -her that, as you had set your heart upon it, I hoped very much she -would let you have it.” - -While this odd conversation went on, the two dealers exchanged -glances. Both were greatly puzzled. They were as one in being a little -suspicious of the absolute bona fides of S. Gedge Antiques. Either -this was a very clumsy method of establishing them, or there was more -behind the picture’s disappearance than met the eye. - -S. Gedge Antiques, whose brain was working at high pressure, was not -slow to read their minds. He closed the discussion with a brevity which -yet was not lacking altogether in persuasion. “There’s no time, boy, -to go into all that,” he said. “The girl’s gone off with the picture, -and wherever she’s to be found, you must go right away, and get it back -from her, and bring it here to me, or we may both find ourselves in the -lock-up. That is so, Mussewer Duplay--what?” And with a lively gesture -the old fox turned to the Frenchman. - -Puzzled that gentleman certainly was, yet he heartily agreed. If the -Van Roon was not produced within the next four and twenty hours, a -warrant would be issued. - -“Where is the hussy? That’s what we want to know,” said the old man. -“Tell us what has become of her.” - -Frankly William did not know. He was not believed, at any rate, by -his master who by now was deeper than ever in the coil of his own -crookedness. As for the two dealers who, between them, had contrived, -as they thought, to acquire one of the world’s treasures for an absurd -sum, they did not know what to think. The comedy they were performing -at the instance of S. Gedge Antiques was designed to bemuse the -assistant, yet both men had an uneasy feeling at the back of their -minds that master and man were engaged in a piece of flapdoodle for -their private benefit. If so, the old man was a fool as well as a -rogue, and the young one was a rogue as well as a fool. Scant was the -comfort to be got out of this reflection. They seemed very far from the -goal on which their hearts were set; and impatience of such methods was -just beginning to show itself in the bearing of Messrs. Duponnet and -Thornton when the affair took a new and remarkable turn. - - - - -LIII - - -A TALL man, quietly dressed, yet wearing a silk hat and an -eyeglass, with a pleasant air of authority, came into the shop. For a -moment he stood by the door, a rather cool gazed fixed upon the group -of four; and then, an odd mingling of alertness and caution in his -manner, he advanced to the proprietor. - -“May I have a word with you,” said the visitor, with an air of apology -for the benefit of the others whom he included in a smile which -expressed little. - -“Certainly you may, Sir Arthur,” said S. Gedge Antiques, an odd change -coming into his tone. Taken by surprise, the old man had been slow to -reckon up the situation. He was not able to detach himself from the -group, and lead the rather unwelcome visitor out of earshot before that -gentleman had divulged the business which had brought him there. - -“You must be anxious about your niece, Mr. Gedge,” said Sir Arthur, who -saw no need for secrecy. - -The old man was very anxious indeed. - -“You’ve heard from the Hospital, of course?” - -It seemed that the old man had heard nothing; and Sir Arthur was -proceeding to deplore this oversight on the part of those whom he had -asked over the telephone to communicate with Number Forty-six, New -Cross Street, when William, whose ear had caught the sinister word -‘Hospital’ could no longer restrain a painful curiosity. - -The young man sprang forward with clasped hands and shining eyes. “Oh, -sir, what has happened to Miss June?” he cried. “Tell me--please!” - -Sir Arthur, his mission concrete in his mind, brought a steady eye -to bear upon the young man before he slowly replied: “She has had a -mental breakdown, and we were able to arrange for her to be taken late -last night to St. Jude’s Hospital.” He then turned to the old man, who -had either grasped the news more slowly, or was less affected by it, -and said: “It’s a case for careful treatment, in the opinion of the -doctor who saw her soon after she arrived at my house, and upon whose -advice she was sent to the Hospital. I am very sorry now that I did not -communicate with you myself!” - -It was the young man, however, as Sir Arthur did not fail to notice, -who seemed really to be troubled by what had befallen this unfortunate -girl. S. Gedge Antiques, for his part, soon shewed that his inmost -thoughts were centered upon something else. - -“Can you tell me, sir,” he said, with an excitement he did not try to -conceal, “whether the picture she took away with her is quite safe?” - -Sir Arthur looked hard at the old man before he answered: “Mr. Gedge, -the picture is perfectly safe.” - -“Thank God!” The exclamation of S. Gedge Antiques was not the less -heartfelt for being involuntary. - -“And Miss June?” interposed William huskily. “Is she?... Is she...?” He -was too upset to frame his question. - -“She is very ill indeed, I’m afraid,” said Sir Arthur, in a kind tone, -“but she is in the best possible hands. Anything that can be done for -her will be done--I am sure you can count upon that.” - -“Is she going to die?” - -Sir Arthur shook his head. “When I last rang up the Hospital, I asked -that question, but they will not give an opinion. They prefer not to go -beyond the fact that she is critically ill.” - -Tears gathered slowly in William’s eyes. Conscience was pricking him -sharply. Had he not brought this unlucky picture into the house, such a -terrible thing would not have occurred. - -William’s brief talk with the visitor, whose unheralded appearance upon -the scene was by no means welcome to S. Gedge Antiques, gave his master -a much needed opportunity to decide upon the course of action. The two -dealers knew now that the Van Roon was safe, but as far as William and -Sir Arthur were concerned, the situation was full of complexity. Much -cunning would be needed to smooth out the tangle; and to this end, as -the old man promptly realized, the first thing to be done was to induce -the Frenchman and his agent to quit the shop. - -“You hear, Mussewer, that the picture is safe,” he said to the buyer, -soapily. “I will go at once and get it from this gentleman. If you will -come in again to-morrow morning, it shall be ready for you.” - -M. Duponnet seemed inclined to await further developments, but S. Gedge -Antiques had no scruples about dismissing his fellow conspirators. -Without more ado, he ushered both dealers gently but firmly to the -door. This new turn in the game had made them keenly curious to learn -more of the affair, yet they realized that they were on thin ice -themselves, and the peremptory manner of S. Gedge Antiques enforced -that view. “To-morrow morning, gentlemen--come and see me then!” -he said, opening the shop door determinedly, and waiting for these -inconvenient visitors to pass out. - -This task accomplished, the old man had to deal with one more delicate. -He had to remove from the minds of William and Sir Arthur Babraham -all suspicion in regard to himself. He came to them with his most -sanctimonious air: “I can’t tell you, sir,” he assured Sir Arthur, -“what a relief it is to know that my niece is in good hands. But I am -afraid she is a very wicked girl.” Then he turned abruptly to William, -and said in a low tone that he wished to have a private conversation -with Sir Arthur. - -For once, however, the young man shewed less than his usual docility. -He was most eager to learn all that had happened to June, and to gain a -clue, if possible, to her strange conduct; besides the painful change -in his master now filled him with distrust. - -The shrewd judge of the world and its ways upon whom the duty had -fallen of holding the balance true was quick to note the reluctance of -the younger man; and even if the nature of the case would compel him in -the end to take the word of the proprietor against that of the servant, -he was influenced already, in spite of himself, by that open simplicity -which had had such an effect upon his daughter. - -“Is there anything, Mr. Gedge, we have to say to one another, which -this young man may not hear?” said Sir Arthur quietly, and then, as -the old dealer did not immediately reply, he added coolly, “I think -not.” Turning to William he said: “Please stay with us. There are one -or two questions I have to put which I hope you will be good enough to -answer.” - -This did not suit the book of S. Gedge Antiques, but he decided to play -a bold game. “I’m very much obliged to you for your kindness in taking -care of the picture,” he said, with a smirk to his visitor. “As you -know, it is a thing of great value. Had anything happened to it, the -loss would have been terrible. Perhaps you will allow me to go at once -and fetch it, for I don’t mind telling you, sir, that until I get it -back again my mind will not be easy.” - -Sir Arthur looked narrowly at the face of unpleasant cunning before -him, and then he said very quietly: “I am sorry to have to tell you, -Mr. Gedge, that your niece claims the picture as her property.” - -The old man was prepared for a development which he had been able to -foresee. “I am afraid she is a very wicked girl,” he said, in the tone -of a known good man whose feelings are deeply wounded. “I ask you, sir, -is it likely that a thing of such immense value would belong to her?” - -Sir Arthur had to agree that it was not, yet remembering his daughter’s -deep conviction on the subject, he was careful to assert June’s claim. - -“Moonshine, I assure you, sir.” - -Sir Arthur, however, did not regard this as conclusive. In the light of -what had happened he felt it to be his duty to seek a clear proof of -the picture’s ownership; therefore he now turned to William and told -him that the girl in the Hospital declared that he had given her the -Van Roon. A plain statement of fact was demanded, and in the face of so -direct an appeal the young man did not hesitate to give one. Originally -the picture was his property, but a week ago he had given it to his -master’s niece. - -“What have you to say to that, Mr. Gedge?” asked Sir Arthur. - -The heart of William seemed to miss a beat while he waited painfully -for the answer to this question. To one of his primitive nature, his -whole life, past, present and future seemed to turn upon the old man’s -next words; and a kind of slow agony overcame him, as he realized what -these words were in all their cynical wickedness. - -“The Van Roon is mine, sir,” said S. Gedge Antiques, in a voice, -strong, definite and calm. “It was bought with my money.” - -Sir Arthur fixed upon the stupefied William an interrogating eye. In -his own mind he felt sure that this must be the fact of the matter, -yet it was hard to believe that a young man who seemed to be openness -itself was deliberately lying. “What do _you_ say?” he asked -gently. - -William was too shocked to say anything. His master took a full -advantage of the pause which followed. “Come, boy,” he said, in a tone -of kindly expostulation, “you know as well as I do that you were given -the money to buy a few things down in Suffolk in the ordinary way of -business on your week’s holiday and that this little thing was one of -your purchases.” - -Sadly the young man shook his head. The cold falsehood was heavier upon -him than a blow from the old man’s fist would have been, yet it roused -him to the point of blunt denial. Quite simply he set forth the true -facts. - -“The master gave me twenty pounds to attend a sale by auction at Loseby -Grange, Saxmundham, and I bought things to the value of twenty pounds -one and ninepence.” - -In a voice which was a nice mingling of humour and pathos the old man -interposed. “This picture, which I admit was bought for a song as the -saying is, was among them.” - -“No, sir,” said William, “I bought this picture with my own money from -an old woman in a shop at Crowdham Market.” - -So much for the issue, which now was quite clearly defined. Sir Arthur, -however, could only regret that the supremely difficult task of keeping -the scales of justice true had developed upon him. - -“What did you pay for the picture, may I ask?” - -“Five shillings,” said William, unhesitatingly. - -“Five shillings!” - -“It was as black as night when I bought it, sir, with a still life, -which must have been at least two hundred years old daubed over it.” - -“Black enough, I allow,” said the old man, “but it can’t alter the fact -that the picture’s mine.” - -“Let me be quite clear on one point,” said Sir Arthur. “You maintain, -Mr. Gedge, that the picture was bought at a sale with your money, and -this young man declares it was bought at a shop with his.” - -“That is so,” said the old man. - -“Do you happen to have kept a list of the things that were bought at -the sale?” - -“No, sir, I’m afraid I haven’t one.” - -Here, however, the old man’s memory was at fault, and this material -fact William went on to prove. Under the counter was a file containing -a mass of receipted bills, and from among these the young man was able -to produce a document which told heavily in his favour. It was a list -of his purchases at Loseby Grange, carefully written out, with the sum -paid opposite each item, and at the foot of it, immediately beneath the -figures “£20.1.9” was written in a rather shaky but businesslike hand, -“Audited and found correct. S. Gedge.” - -This lucky discovery went some way towards establishing William’s -case. The paper contained no mention of a picture, other than a print -after P. Bartolozzi, which William took at once from the shop window. -Finished dissembler as he was, the old man could not conceal the fact -that he was shaken, but like a desperate gambler with a fortune at -stake, he hastily changed his tactics. He began now to pooh-pooh the -receipt, and declared that even if his unfortunate memory had played -him a trick as to where the picture had been actually bought, it did -not affect the contention that it had been purchased with his money. - -Sir Arthur Babraham, in his search for the truth, could not help -contrasting the bearing of the claimants. Avarice was engraved deeply -upon the yellow parchment countenance of S. Gedge Antiques, whereas so -open was the face of William that it went against the grain to accuse -its owner of baseness. In spite, of this, however, Sir Arthur could not -help asking himself how it had come about that a young man so poor, who -was yet clever enough to pick up such a treasure for a few shillings -had parted with it so lightly. - -Upon the answer to that question he felt much would depend. - -“I suppose when you gave this picture away you did not realize its -great value?” - -“As a matter of fact, sir, I hardly thought about it at all in that -way. I only saw that it was a very lovely thing, and Miss June saw that -it was a very lovely thing. She admired it so much that she begged me -to let her buy it.” - -“Did you take her money?” - -“No, sir. She accepted it as a gift. I asked her not to let us think of -it as money.” - -“Could you afford to do that?” Involuntarily the questioner looked -at the young man’s threadbare coat and shabby trousers, and at once -decided that he, of all people, certainly could not. - -William’s answer, accompanied by a baffling smile, gave pause to the -man of the world. “I hope, sir, I shall always afford the luxury of not -setting a price on beauty.” - -The dark saying brought a frown to the face of Mr. Worldly Wiseman, who -said in his slow voice: “But surely you would not give away a Van Roon -to the first person who asks for it?” - -“Why not, sir--if you happen to--to----” - -“If you happen to what?” - -“To like the person.” - -Although the young man blushed when he made this confession, such an -ingenuousness did his cause no harm. Sir Arthur Babraham, all the -same, was puzzled more than a little by such an attitude of mind. -This indifference to money was almost uncanny; and yet as he compared -the face of the assistant with that of the master, the difference was -tragic. One suffused with the light that never was on sea or land, the -other dark as the image of Baal whose shadow was cast half across the -shop. - - - - -LIV - - -DOUBT was melting in the mind of Sir Arthur Babraham. He was -coming now to a perception of the truth. To one who lived in the world, -who saw men and things at an obtuse angle, the story as told by this -young man verged upon the incredible and yet he felt sure it was true. -The fellow was an Original, an unkind critic might even say that he was -a trifle “cracked,” but if this visionary who adored beauty for its -own sake could enact such a piece of deceit it would be unwise ever to -trust one’s judgment again in regard to one’s fellow creatures. And the -reverse of the medal was shewn just as plainly in the face of the old -dealer. - -Man of affairs as Sir Arthur was, however, he knew better than to -take a hasty decision upon what, after all, might prove to be wrong -premises. It was his clear duty to see justice done in a strange -matter, but he would leave to others the task of enforcing it. Thus -when the old man renewed his demand to be allowed to go at once to Park -Lane and get the picture, he was met by a refusal which if very polite -was also final. - -“Mr. Gedge, my daughter holds this picture in trust for your niece, who -I am informed by the Hospital, has been most cruelly used by somebody. -She accepts--we both accept--the story told by your niece as to how in -the first instance she came to possess this most valuable thing, which -by the way this young man has been able to confirm. If you persist in -trying to establish your claim I am afraid you must apply to the law.” - -This speech, delivered with judicial weight, was a bomb-shell. With -a gasp the old man realized that the game was up; yet as soon as the -first shock had passed he could hardly mask his fury. By his own folly -the chance of a lifetime had been thrown away. - -As he was now to find, he was bereft of more than the Van Roon. He had -lost the trust and affection of William. In the first agony of defeat, -S. Gedge Antiques was far from realizing what the fact would mean, but -it was brought home to him poignantly two days later. - -William’s first act, when Sir Arthur had left the shop, was to go to -the Hospital. Here he was received by a member of its staff who told -him that the patient was too ill to see anyone, and that even if she -recovered, her mind might be permanently affected. The doctor who -discussed the case with the young man allowed himself this frankness, -because he was very anxious for light to be thrown on it. The girl had -been cruelly knocked about, there were heavy bruises on her body and -marks on her throat which suggested that she had had to fight for her -life; and this was borne out by the delirium through which she was -passing. In the main it seemed to be inspired by terror of a man whom -she spoke of continually as Uncle Si. - -The visitor was questioned closely as to the identity of the mysterious -Uncle Si. He was pressed to say all that he knew about him, for the -Hospital had to consider whether this was not a matter for the police. - -William was shocked and rather terrified by the turn things had taken. -The scales had been torn from his eyes with a force that left him -bewildered. He had trusted his master in the way he trusted all the -world, and now disillusion had come in a series of flashes which left -him half blind, he felt life could never be the same. His own world of -the higher reality was after all no more than the paradise of a fool. -Perversely he had shut his eyes to the wickedness of men and their weak -folly and in consequence he now found himself poised on the lip of a -chasm. - -Two days after the terrible discovery which had changed his attitude -to life, he told his master that he was going to leave him. It was a -heavy blow. Not for a moment had such a thing entered the old man’s -calculations. He had got into the habit of regarding this good simple -fellow as having so little mind of his own that for all practical -purposes he was now a part of himself. - -So inconceivable was it to S. Gedge Antiques that one wedded to him by -years of faithful service could take such a step, that it was hard to -believe the young man meant what he said. He must be joking. But the -wish was the anxious parent of the thought, for even if the old man’s -sight was failing, he was yet able to see the disdain in the eyes of -William. - -“I can’t part with you, boy,” he said bleakly. - -That, indeed, was the open truth. To part with this absolutely honest -and dependable fellow who had grown used to his ways, for whom no day’s -work was too long, for whom no task was too exacting, who was always -obliging and cheerful, whose keen young sight and almost uncanny “nose” -for a good thing had become quite indispensable to one who was no -longer the man he had been; for S. Gedge Antiques to lose this paragon -was simply not to be thought of. - -“Boy don’t talk foolishly. I’ll raise your wages five shillings a week -from the first of the New Year.” - -The old man could not see the look of slow horror that crept into the -eyes of William; yet in spite of his other infirmity, he did not fail -to catch the note of grim pain in the stifled, “I’ll have to leave you, -sir. I can’t stay here.” - -Obtuse the old man was, yet he now perceived the finality of these -broken words. As he realized all they meant to him, the sharp pain was -like the stab of a knife. William was not merely indispensable. His -master loved him. And he had killed the thing he loved. - -“Boy, I can’t let you go.” Human weakness fell upon the old man like a -shadow; this second blow was even more terrible than the loss of the -Van Roon which was still a nightmare in his thoughts. “I’m old. I’m -getting deaf and my eyes are going.” He who had had no spark of pity -for others did not scruple to ask it for himself. - -William was a rock. Primitive as he was, now that he could respect his -master no more, he must cease to serve him. The revelation of that -master’s baseness had stricken him to the heart; for the time being it -had taken the savour out of life itself. - -One hope, one frail hope remained to S. Gedge Antiques, even when he -knew at last that his assistant was “through” with him. In times so -difficult the young man might not be able to get another job; yet he -had only to mention it to discover it was not a staff on which he would -be able to lean. - -William, it seemed, had got another job already. - -“At how much a week?” Habit was so strong, there was no concealing the -sneer in the tone of surprised inquiry. - -Three pounds a week was to be William’s salary. The old man could -only gasp. It brought home to him, as perhaps nothing else could have -done, the real worth of the treasure he was about to lose. It was four -times the rate at which he had thought well to reward these priceless -services. - -“Who is being fool enough to give you that money?” he sneered, the -ruling passion still strong in him. - -“Mr. Hutton, sir, at the top of the street,” was the mournful answer. - -S. Gedge Antiques dug a savage tooth in his lower lip. Joseph Hutton -was a young and “pushful” rival whom on instinct he hated. “Fellow’s a -fool to go spoiling the market,” he snarled. - -Alas, the old man knew but too well that as far as William was -concerned, it was not at all a question of spoiling the market. That -aspect of the matter would never arise in his mind. - - - - -LV - - -EVERY day for a fortnight William went to the Hospital, only -to be denied a sight of the patient. June was fighting for life. And -even when the crisis was passed and it began to appear that the fight -would be successful, she had to face an issue just as critical and yet -more terrible, for the fear remained that she would lose her reason. - -In this time of darkness William was most unhappy. But as far as he -was concerned, events moved quickly. He said good-bye to his master, -removed his belongings from Number Forty-six, New Cross Street, and -entered the employ of a neighbouring dealer, a man of far more liberal -mind than S. Gedge Antiques; one who, moreover, well understood the -value of such a servant. - -For William, it was a terrible wrench. He was like a plant whose roots -have been torn from the soil. With the ardour of a simple character he -had loved his master, trusting and believing in him to an extent only -possible to those endowed with rare felicity of nature. In spite of -himself he was now forced to accept the hard and bitter truth that the -old man upon whom he had lavished affection was not only a miser, but -something worse. When the passion which ruled his life was fully roused -he was tempted to anything. - -Life, felt William, could never be the same again. There was still the -beauty of the visible universe, the pageantry of the seasons to adore; -the harmony and colour of the world’s design might still entrance the -senses of an artist, but not again must he surrender his being entire -to the joy of abounding in these wonders. It was the duty of every man -who dwelt upon the earth, however humbly, to learn something of the -hearts of others. One could only live apart, it seemed, at one’s peril. - -While in the lower depths and beginning to despair of seeing June -again, he called as usual at the Hospital one afternoon, to be greeted -by the long-hoped-for news that the patient had taken a turn for the -better. Moreover she had begged to be allowed to see him; and this -permission was now given. - -Carrying the daily bunch of flowers, by means of which June had already -recognized his care for her, he was led along the ward to the bed -in which she lay. The change in her appearance startled him. Little -remained of the whimsical yet high-spirited and practical girl who -had mocked his inefficiency in regard to the world and its ways. To -see those great eyes with the horror still in them and that meagre -face, dead white amid the snow of its pillows, was to feel a tragic -tightening of the heart. - -Tears ran down June’s cheeks at the sight of the flowers. “I don’t -deserve your goodness,” she said. “You can’t guess how wicked I am.” - -As she extended to him her thin arms he found it hard to rein back his -own tears. What suffering he had unwittingly brought upon this poor -thing. But it was impossible to keep track of her mind which even now -was in the thrall of an awful nightmare. God knew in what darkness it -was still plunged. - -Shuddering convulsively at the memories his voice and his presence -brought to her, the words that came to her lips tore his heart. “Am I -struck? Am I like the Hoodoo? Am I like Uncle Si?” - -To him, just then, this wildness was hardly more than a symptom of -a mind deranged. His great distress did not allow him to pursue its -implication, nor could he understand the nadir of the soul from which -it sprang. Yet many times in the days to follow he was haunted by those -words. They came to him in his waking hours and often in lieu of sleep -at night. - -Returning from this short and unhappy interview to his new home at -Number 116, New Cross Street, he found a surprise in store. A visitor -had called to see him and, at the moment of his arrival, was on the -point of going away. - -His late master, looking very grey and frail, had come to beg him to -return. He declared that he was now too old to carry on alone. Sight -and hearing were growing worse. He had another quarrel with the char -and had been obliged to send her permanently away, although the truth -of the matter was that an oppressed female had risen at last against -his tyranny and had found a better place. - -S. Gedge Antiques was now a figure for pity, but William, fresh from -the lacerating presence of the niece whom he had so cruelly thrown out -of doors, had none to give. - -The whine and snuffle of their last meeting, at whose remembrance rose -the gorge of an honest man, were no more. Instead of the crocodile -tricks were now the slow tears of a soul in agony. The truth was, this -childless and friendless old man, who in the grip of the passion that -had eaten away his life, had never been able to spare a thought for his -kind, simply could not do without the one human being he had learned to -love. - -Their relations, as the old miser had discovered, were much closer than -those of servant and master. William stood for youth, for the seeing -mind, for cheerful, selfless giving, for life itself. The tones of his -voice, his kindly readiness, his tolerance for an old man’s megrims; -even the sound of this good fellow moving furniture in the next room -and the sense of him about the place had grown to mean so much that, -now they were withdrawn, all other things grew null. - -The old man felt now that he could not go on, and at any other moment, -the force of his appeal might have touched the gentle nature to whom -it was made. But the stars in their courses fought against S. Gedge -Antiques. He was a figure to move the heart, as he stood in the shop of -a rival dealer, the slow tears staining his thin cheeks, but William -had the shadow of that other figure upon him. The wreck of youth, of -reason itself, seemed infinitely more tragic than the falling of the -temple upon the priest of Baal whose wickedness had brought the thing -to pass. - -William denied his master. And yet hearing him out to the bitter end, -he was unable to withhold a little pity. All feeling for the old man -was dead; the bedside from which he had just come had finally destroyed -the last spark of his affection, yet being the creature he was, he -could not sit in judgment. - -“I’ll pay you twice what you are getting now if you’ll return to me,” -said the old man. “As I say, I can’t go on.” He peered into that face -of ever-deepening distress. “What do you say, boy?” He took the hand -of the young man in his own, as a father might take that of a beloved -son. “I’ll give you anything--if you’ll come back. I haven’t long to -live. Return to-night and I’ll leave you the business. Now what do you -say?” - -Had it been human to forgive at such a moment, S. Gedge Antiques would -have been forgiven. But William could only stand dumb and unresponsive -before the master he had loved. - -“I’m a warm man.” The voice of the old dealer who had made money his -god, sank to a whisper becoming a theme so sacred. “My investments have -turned out well. There’s no saying what I _am_ worth--but this -I’ll tell you in strict confidence--I own property.” The hushed tone -was barely audible. “In fact I own nearly half my own side of this -street. Now what do you say? Promise to come back to me to-night and -I’ll go right now and see my lawyer.” - -The young man stood the image of unhappiness. - -“Only speak the word and you shall inherit every stick and stone.” - -It was a moment to rend the heart of both, but the word was not spoken. -For the second time that afternoon William was hard set to rein back -his tears; but he had not the power to yield to this appeal. - -Overborne by the knowledge that the hand of Fate was upon him, S. Gedge -Antiques, leaning heavily on his knotted stick, moved feebly towards -the dark street. - - - - -LVI - - -WILLIAM continued his daily visits to the Hospital, but he was -not allowed to see June. Life itself was no longer in immediate danger, -but she had had a relapse and the doctors were still afraid that the -mental injury would be permanent. Time alone could prove if such was -the case or no, but the mood induced by the interview with William, and -the strange words she had used to him, which seemed to belong to some -fixed and secret obsession, were not a good sign. - -Following his visit there had been a rise of temperature. And this -meant further weakening of a terror-haunted mind. Even if the need for -anxiety was less acute, full recovery at best would be slow and more -than ever doubtful. - -June was still menaced by the shadow when an event occurred which -intensified William’s distress. One morning, about a week after he had -rejected his master’s last appeal, an inspector of police came to see -him. Neighbours of S. Gedge Antiques had called attention to the fact -that the shop had remained closed for several days, and as it was known -that the old man had lately been living alone, the circumstance had -given rise to a certain amount of suspicion. William’s name had been -mentioned as lately in his employ and he was asked to throw what light -he could on the mystery. - -“The neighbours think we ought to enter the shop and see if anything -has happened,” said the police inspector. - -William thought so too. Remembering the last meeting with his master, -which had left a scar he would carry to the grave, a kind of prophetic -foreknowledge came to him now of a new development to this tragedy. - -It was not convenient just then to leave the shop as he happened to -be in sole charge of it, therefore he was unable to accompany the -inspector down the street. But half an hour later, on the return of his -new employer, curiosity forced him to put on his hat and go forth to -see if the thing he feared had come to pass. - -The police, already, had made an entry of Number Forty-six. Moreover a -knot of people was assembled about the familiar door, which was half -open. Its shutters were still up, but two constables were guarding the -precincts. William caught the words “Murder--Suicide--Robbery” as he -came up with the throng. - -In a state of painful excitement, he made his way to the door. - -S. Gedge Antiques, it seemed, had been found lying dead on the shop -floor. The young man wished to pass in, but the police had instructions -to allow no one to enter. A doctor summoned by telephone, had not yet -come. - -William was still discussing the matter, when the inspector whose -acquaintance he had made already, hearing voices at the door, came from -the shop interior to see if it was the doctor who had at last arrived. -He recognized William at once and invited him in. - -Outside was a murky November day, but with the windows still shuttered, -it was necessary for three rather ineffectual gas-jets to be lit in the -shop. The light they gave was weird and fitful, but it sufficed to -enable the young man to see what had occurred. - -As yet the body had not been touched. In accordance with custom in such -cases, it had to lie just as it was until viewed by a doctor, for if -moved by unskilful hands, some possible clue as to the cause of death -might be obliterated. - -The old man was lying supine, before the Hoodoo. One glance at that -face, so drawn, so thwarted, and yet so pitiful in its ghastliness, was -enough to convince William that death had come directly from the hand -of God. With a shiver he recalled the words of a strange and terrible -clairvoyance, of late so often in his ears. “Am I struck? Am I like -Uncle Si? Am I like the Hoodoo?” - -As the old man lay now, in all the starkness of his soul, with only -the essence shewing in that tragic face, William was overcome by his -likeness to the image. It was as if, at the last, his very nature had -gone out to some false god who had perverted him. That splay-footed -monster, so large of maw, an emblem of bestial greed, was too plainly a -symbol of the mammon of unrighteousness to which the master had devoted -his life. - -Consumed by pity, William turned away from a sight which he was no -longer able to bear. - - - - -LVII - - -SPRING came, and June who had had to fight for life and then -for reason, won slowly to a final sense of victory. This came to her on -a delicious April day, when the earth waking from its long sleep, was -renewed with the joy of procreation. Her own nature, which had passed -through so many months of darkness, was quickened to response in this -magic hour. - -The force of the emotion owed much, no doubt, to the spirit of -environment. Life had begun again for June under conditions different -from any she had known. Powerful friends had been gained for her by -a singularly romantic story. Of certain things that had happened she -could not bring herself to tell; but when as much of the truth came out -as could be derived from facts precariously pieced together, she became -a real heroine in the sight of Sir Arthur Babraham and his daughter. - -But for her courage and keen wit a great work of art might have passed -out of the country without anyone being the wiser. These staunch -friends were determined that justice should be done in the matter, and -kindly folk that they were, did not spare themselves in the long and -difficult task of restoring her to health. - -The middle of April saw her installed in the gardener’s cottage at -Homefield in the care of a motherly and genial housewife. Here she -almost dared to be happy. The phantoms of the long night were being -dispersed at last in an atmosphere of sunny and cordial well-being. - -Miss Babraham, who walked across the park from the house every morning -to see her, had become a sort of fairy godmother whose mission was to -see that she did not worry about anything. She must give her days and -nights to the duty of getting well. And she was going to be rich. - -Riches, alas, for June, had the fairy godmother but known, were the fly -in the ointment. They could only arise from one source, and around it -must always hover the black storm clouds. She had no real right to the -money which was coming to her, and although she had no means apart from -it, she felt that she must never accept a single penny. It was morbidly -unpractical perhaps, but there the feeling was. - -When June had been at Homefield about a week, Miss Babraham found her -one morning in the sunny embrasure of the pleasant little sitting -room improving her mind by a happy return to her favourite “Mill on -the Floss.” In passing out of its mental eclipse, the angle of June’s -vision had shifted a little; her approach to new phases of experience -was rather more sympathetic than it had been. Before “that” had -happened, she had been inclined, as became a self-respecting member of -the Democracy which is apt to deride what it does not comprehend, to -be a little contemptuous of “Miss Blue Blood,” a creature born to more -than a fair share of life’s good things. But now that she knew more -about this happy-natured girl, she felt a tolerance of which, at first, -she was just a little ashamed. Envy was giving place to something else. -Her graces and her air of fine breeding, which June’s own caste was -inclined to resent, were not the obvious fruits of expensive clothes; -in fact, they owed far less than June had supposed to the length of the -purse behind them. - -The kindness, the charm, the sympathy were more than skin deep. In -the first place, no doubt their possessor had been born under a lucky -star; much of her quality was rooted inevitably in the fact that she -was her father’s daughter yet the invalid could not gainsay that “Miss -Blue Blood” had manners of the heart. Now that June saw her in her own -setting among her own people this golden truth shone clear. And in the -many talks June had with her good hostess, Mrs. Chrystal, the wife of -Sir Arthur’s head gardener, one radiant fact rose bright and free: -there was none like Miss Babraham. Her peer was not to be found on the -wide earth. - -No doubt there were spots on this sun as there are spots on other -suns, but June agreed that as far as Miss Babraham was concerned these -blemishes were hidden from mortal eye. And each day gave cogency to -such a view. This morning, for example, the distinguished visitor was -brimming with kindliness. She talked simply and sincerely, without -patronage or frills upon the subjects in which June was now interested. -She had read _all_ George Eliot and gave as the sum of her -experience that the “Mill on the Floss” was the story she liked best, -although her father preferred “Adam Bede” or “Silas Marner.” - -“Before my illness,” said June, “I was getting to think that all novels -were silly and a waste of time. But I see now that you can learn a lot -about life from a good one.” - -She was in a very serious mood. Like most people who have not the -gift of “taking things in their stride” new orientations were a heavy -business. At school, as a little girl, she had shed many tears over her -arithmetic. The process of mind improvement was not to be undertaken -lightly. She could never be a Miss Babraham, but her ambition, in the -words of her favourite song, was to be as like her as she was able to -be. - -Like true poets, however, Miss Babrahams were born. Such graces came -from an inner harmony of nature. All the best fairies must have -flocked to her christening. One minor gift she had which June allowed -herself to covet, since it might fall within the scope of common -mortals; it was the way in which her maid arranged her hair. June’s -own famous mane, which indirectly had brought such suffering upon her, -had mercifully been spared; it had not even been “bobbed,” and with -careful tendence might again achieve its old magnificence. As shyly -she confessed this ambition, which sprang less from vanity than simple -pride in her one “asset,” Miss Babraham assured her that nothing could -be nicer than her own way of doing it. - -From hair and the art of treating it they passed to other intimate -topics; frocks and the hang of them; the knack of putting things on, in -which Miss Babraham’s gift of style filled June with envy since that, -alas, she would never be able to copy; and above all, her friend’s -wonderful faculty of looking her best on all occasions. - -As the good fairy, after a stay of a full hour, rose to go, she said, -“If to-morrow morning is as fine as this morning, do you think you -could come over to us? You know the way. It’s an easy walk of less -than half a mile.” - -June was sure she could. - -“Please do, if you won’t find it trying. Come about eleven. And I -hope,” said the good fairy, casting back her charming smile as she was -about to pass out of the sitting-room door, “there may be a pleasant -little surprise for you.” - -During the last few weeks June had known in abundance the agreeably -unexpected. And though at intervals during the rest of the fair spring -day, her mind toyed with this new “surprise,” she was not able to guess -what it was going to be. - - - - -LVIII - - -ELEVEN o’clock the next morning saw June, dressed very carefully -indeed, before the portals of the House. She had come well. Excitement -had made her feel quite strong again; moreover she had been promised -a reward for the effort she was making. Apart from that besides, it -was the biggest feat of her social life, so far, to press the bell -of such a noble door. - -The servant who answered it was not too proud to shew by his air of -prompt courtesy that her coming was anticipated. She was led across a -glorious hall--all black oak, family portraits, heads of deer and suits -of armour, with an open gallery running round the top, like a scene on -the movies--up a wide staircase, laid with a carpet thick and subtle -to the tread, along a corridor into a room of great length whose glass -roof gave a wonderful light. Many pictures hung upon its walls. June -was thrilled at the moment she found herself in it, for this she felt -sure, was the famous Long Gallery. - -The thrill was not confined, however, to the room. When she entered, -June thought it was empty, but a look round disclosed at the far end -a tall young man in a familiar attitude of rapt absorption. Only one -person since the world began could have been so lost to the present in -sheer force of contemplating a mere relic of the past. - -It was a rare bit of contrivance, all the same, on the part of Miss -Babraham. Here, before June, was the Sawney, raised to his highest -power. The fairy godmother had made a pass with her magic wand and -William the amazing stood before her in the flesh. - -He was too far from the door and too rapt in adoration of the -masterpiece at which he was gazing, to have heard June come in. And so, -before he saw her, she had time to grow nervous and this was a pity. -For so effectively had the mine been sprung that she had need just now -of all her courage. - -A good deal of water had recently flowed under the bridge. It was as if -a hundred years had passed since she had dared to label him a Sawney. -He had grown up and she had grown down. So far away was the time of -their equality, if such a time had ever really been, that she was just -a shade in awe of him now. - -Many hours had he spent by her bed. It was perhaps due to him that -she had emerged at last from the chasm which so long and so grimly -threatened to engulf her. His royal yet gentle nature had a true power -of healing. The look in his eyes, the music of his voice, the poetry of -his thoughts, the charm of his mere presence, had borne him to a plane -far above that of common people like herself. If Miss Babraham was a -fairy godmother, this young man was surely the true prince. - -Beyond anyone she had ever known he had a perception of those large and -deep things of sky and earth, which alone, as it seemed to her now, -made life worth while. He was the prophet of the beautiful in deed as -in word. During the long night through which she had passed, the sense -of her inferiority had been not the least of her sorrows. - -That sense returned upon her now as she stood timidly by the door -through which she had come, watching the beams of an April sun, almost -as shy as herself, weave an aureole for him. Here was the god of her -dreams; she who lately had known no god and who long ago had taught -herself to despise all forms of dreaming. - -At last he turned and saw her. - -“You!” He sprang towards her with an eager cry. - -Brilliant stage management. But by fate’s perversity, the players, -somehow, were not quite equal to their parts. June’s shy timidity -communicated itself at once to this sensitive plant. There was not a -ghost of a reason why he should not have taken her in his arms, for -he had come to love her tenderly. The act had been devised for him, -the deed expected, but this young man was less wise in some things -than in others. Deep as he could look into hidden mysteries, there was -certainly one mystery whose heart he could not read. - -June’s odd confusion summoned a mistaken chivalry. Broken in spirit, -poor soul, by what she had been through, she could no longer defend -herself; he must be, therefore, very gentle. It would have been easier -to tackle the Miss June of New Cross Street, the rather imperious -and sharp-tongued niece of his late employer, than this quivering -storm-beaten flower. - -With all his genius it was to be feared he would always be a Sawney. - -“How are you getting on Miss June?” he said lamely. “You look very -thin, but you’ve got quite a colour.” - -Something of the gawklike New Cross Street manner, which compared ill -with Miss Babraham’s tact and finesse was in this greeting. Phœbus -Apollo took a sudden nose-dive. He came, in fact, within an ace of a -crash. - -June’s cheeks grew flame-colour. An idiot less divine would have -given her a kiss and have had done with it, but in some ways he was a -shocking dunce. - -“I expect you are surprised to see me here, aren’t you?” - -She could but stammer that she was very much surprised. - -“Sir Arthur has asked me to re-hang some of these.” A rather proud -wave of the hand towards those august walls shewed that he was human. -“And he has commissioned me”--She heard again that dying fall which -always touched her ear with ecstasy--“to go over this Jan Vermeer most -carefully with warm water and cotton wool.” - -June knitted her brow in order to accompany his finger in its mystical -course. - -“A Jan what?” she said, achieving a frown. Had it been possible at -this early stage of convalescence to achieve a note of reproof, that -authentic touch would not have been lacking. - -William’s the blame for a lost opportunity. But life is full of -_gaffes_ on the part of those who ought to know better. The -ability of William was beyond dispute. Miss Babraham had acclaimed it, -whereby she was no more than the mouthpiece of her father, that famous -connoisseur who said openly that the discoverer of the Van Roon was a -genius. To Sir Arthur it was miraculous that a tiro should expose the -treasure to the view in a fashion so accomplished. It hardly seemed -possible to remove the burdens of overgrowth laid by time and the -vandal fingers of inferior artists upon that delicate surface without -damage to the fabric. Yet experts had declared the thing to be not a -penny the worse for all the processes it had been through; and on the -strength of this amazing skill, the owner of Homefield had decided to -entrust to those inspired hands, one of his cherished Vermeers. - - - - -LIX - - -TOGETHER they went round the Long Gallery, gazing at the -treasure on its walls, which to him meant so much, to her so little. -She tried to see it with his eyes or if this could not be, at least get -some clue to the quality which made quite ordinary looking objects the -things they were. - -Who could have believed that an old and dirty thing which she had heard -even Uncle Si describe as a daub, would turn out to be a fortune? Other -fortunes were here to gaze upon, but why they were so precious would -always be for June a mystery of mysteries. Even with William’s help it -was a subject on which she could never be really wise. She had now a -great desire to reach out after Culture; the “Mill on the Floss” was -most stimulating to the mind; but just now she felt, in Blackhampton -phrase, that already “she had bitten off more than she could chew.” - -Perhaps it was the presence of William which had induced a mood of -great complexity. Old unhappy things were flooding back. And as they -walked slowly round the Gallery, an object at its extreme end suddenly -sprang into view, which brought her up with an icy gasp. The Hoodoo was -grinning at her. - -In its new setting the monster was merely grotesque. Retrieved from -the morose interior of Number Forty-six, New Cross Street, which it -had darkened so long with its malice, it was no longer an active -embodiment of evil. The force of its ugliness was less, yet for June, -in a subtle way, the implication of its presence was more. - -It was as if the Fates were saying to her: “We are watching you, my -girl. This young man, whom now you dare to love, have you not tricked -him out of his patrimony by your pretended worship of beauty? Share -his ecstasy, if you please, of his Peter This and his Mathew That, but -don’t forget that Our eye is still upon you. What you have already -received you will long remember, but you may get another dose if you -are not careful.” - -Hearing words to this sinister effect in the secret places of her soul, -June could only shiver. William, now as conscious of the invalid’s -frailty as of the imperious challenge of beauty, led her at once to a -seat without seeking the cause of her distress. - -He saw she was still very weak and hastened therefore to set her down -on a chair of the Empire, heedless of the fact that she was almost -cheek by jowl with the Hoodoo. - -“Mustn’t tire yourself,” he said in a voice of rare sympathy which -did but add to the feeling of misery that crept upon her. “I’m afraid -you’ve walked a bit too far.” - -Again June shivered. The old unhappy things were threatening once -more to submerge her. “How I wish That had not come here,” she said -dismally. There was no need to point at the Image; she was sure that he -knew what she meant. - -But amazing young man that he was, this was trying him a little too -highly. - -“Oh, you mean the James,” he said pointing to a windmill opposite. -“He isn’t a Mathew, is he? I’m so glad, Miss June, you think that too, -because with you to back me, I may be able to break it to Sir Arthur, -that this isn’t quite the place for him.” - -Divine humility! Mad confusion! Had she but felt a little stronger, a -little less unhappy, she really could have shaken him. - -“I mean the Hoodoo,” she said woefully. - -Her wild bird’s heart went quick and high as she saw him turn casually -and enfold That with a slow smile. “Right again,” he said, his head a -little to one side in pure connoisseurship, a trick she had learned to -watch for. “I quite agree with you--the old fool swallows more than his -share of this beautiful light.” - -June was not thinking of the beautiful light. She was trembling in -spirit; but one of his nature could not be expected to know what demons -from the abyss were invading her. “How I wish it was somewhere else.” - -His laugh of gay agreement was suddenly checked as he caught the look -in her eyes and in the next instant he saw the old man lying dead at -the foot of the Hoodoo. - -It was like the passing of a cloud across the sun. Life for him, also, -had found another notation in these terrible months. He had been -through a hard school. Certain lines in his face were deeper and there -were hollows under his eyes. Never again must he allow the ideal to run -so far ahead of the real. Yet in this harsh moment the power of his -nature kept him up. - -He was able to pierce to the true reason for June’s deadly pallor. It -was not wholly due to the fact that she was still weak or that she had -walked too far. Trolls even now were in her brain. With his instinct -for healing he must do his utmost to cast them out. - -“We’ll try to persuade Miss Babraham to have him put in the garden.” - -Scarcely had he spoken the words when the fairy godmother, accompanied -by Sir Arthur Babraham, entered the Long Gallery. - - - - -LX - - -“SO here you are!” - -But the light note of Miss Babraham’s greeting changed to a quick -concern as a feminine eye saw at a glance that June was looking “done.” - -“Now don’t get up, please. I am going to be quite angry with myself if -your walk has made you over-tired.” - -June, a new shyness upon her, which the presence of Sir Arthur made -much worse, found it very difficult to speak. - -“I hope you are cultivating a taste for chicken and new laid -eggs,” said the kindly gentleman. “And for a glass of wine to your -meals--which I always say is what has made Old England the country she -is.” Finding his jolly laugh was less effective than usual, he pointed -to the Hoodoo in the tactful hope of putting an embarrassed girl at her -ease. “There’s an old friend I’m sure you recognize.” June’s distress, -however, grew rapidly worse and Sir Arthur made a fresh cast. “I’m not -sure all the same,” he said to William in a laughing aside, “that the -old fellow can be allowed to stay here. Tell me, what is your candid -opinion?” - -“We’ve been wondering, sir, if he wouldn’t look better in the garden.” - -Miss Babraham caught gaily at the suggestion. “The very place for the -jar of Knossos. And perhaps Miss June and Mr. William will plant a -myrtle in it.” - -“A myrtle,” said Sir Arthur. “In that chap--a myrtle?” He plucked at -his moustache and looked at the laughing Laura. “Why--pray--a myrtle?” - -“Papa, how dense you are!” - -A hit clean and fair, which after a very little thought Sir Arthur -was man enough to own. His one excuse, and a poor one, was that in -certain things the sex to which he had the misfortune to belong, was -notoriously “slow in the uptake.” - -It was now William’s turn to acclaim the idea. Blushing deeply said -that quaint and whimsical young man: “Yes, Miss Babraham, with your -permission we will plant a myrtle in the jar of Knossos.” - -In the laugh which followed June did not share; just now her feeling -was that she would never be able to laugh again. - -Sir Arthur, still tactful, now conceived it to be his duty to cheer the -poor girl up. “By the way,” he said, “has my daughter told you what we -propose to do with your Van Roon? Of course with your permission.” - -June simply longed for the power to say that it was not for her to give -the permission as the Van Roon was not hers. But she was living just -now in a kind of dream in which action and speech had no part. The only -thing she could do was to listen passively to the voice of Sir Arthur, -while it leisurely unfolded a tale of fairyland. - -“I must tell you,” he said, “subject to your approval--always, of -course, subject to _that_--we have formed a sort of committee to -deal with this picture of yours. It has given rise to a rather curious -position. We think--three or four of us--that it ought to be acquired -for the nation; but of course there’s the question of price. If the -work is put up at auction, it may fetch more than we should feel -justified in paying. Sentiment of course; but nowadays sentiment plays -a big part in these matters. On the other hand, having regard to the -obscurity of its origin, it might be knocked down for considerably less -than it is intrinsically worth. All the same we are quite convinced -that it is a very choice example of a great master, and that the place -for it is the National Gallery, where another Van Roon is badly needed. -Now I hope you see the dilemma. If the nation enters the market a -definite buyer, the thing may soar to a preposterous sum. At the same -time, we don’t want the nation to acquire it for less than its real -value. So the question in a nutshell is, will you accept a private -arbitration or do you prefer to run the risk of getting comparatively -little in the hope of obtaining an extra ten thousand pounds or so?” - -June followed the argument as closely as she could, and at the end of -it burst into wild tears. - -“The picture is not mine,” she sobbed. “It doesn’t belong to me.” - -It was a moment of keen embarrassment. Sir Arthur, who had doubted from -the first, was hardly to be blamed for beginning to doubt again. Such -an outburst was the oddest confirmation of his first suspicion, which -conspiring Circumstance had enabled him perhaps too easily to forget. -But Laura’s faith was quite unshaken. For her the question of ownership -had been settled once and for all. The poor thing was overwrought, -overdriven; it was so like the tactless father of hers, to worry the -girl with all kinds of tiresome details when he should have known that -she was not strong enough to grapple with them. - -“Come, papa,” said Laura Babraham with reproof in a clear grey eye. -“If we don’t go at once and look at that herbaceous border we shall -certainly be late for luncheon.” - - - - -LXI - - -LEFT to themselves once more, it became William’s task to -comfort June’s distress. Like Sir Arthur, he too, it seemed, could be -tactful. Instead of discussing the question of the Van Roon’s ownership -or the unlucky presence of the Hoodoo, he began gently to discourse of -Mathew Maris. - -As far as June was concerned he might as well have discoursed of the -moon. In the first place she had never heard of Mathew Maris; and in -the second she was consumed by a desire to settle forever the question -of the Van Roon which was now tormenting her like a fire. This was -a dynamic moment, when great decisions are reached with startling -abruptness and half a lifetime may be lived in half a minute. - -Mathew Maris was not for June just now. Suddenly she broke again into -wild sobs. - -“I cheated you, I tricked you over that picture.” - -Again, good honest fellow, he tried to change the current of this mind -distraught. But it was not to be. - -“You gave it me, didn’t you, because I made you think I had fallen in -love with it? But I hadn’t. It meant nothing to me--not in that way.” - -He stood an image of dismay, but he had to listen. - -“Why do you suppose I did that? I’ll tell you. I overheard Uncle Si -talking to a dealer. You remember, don’t you, the funny crooked little -man in the knitted comforter and the brown billycock whom I used to -call Foxy Face? One morning when you were out he offered Uncle Si five -pounds for it and Uncle Si said it might be worth a good deal more. -That’s why I decided to get hold of it if I could, before Uncle Si got -it from you. And that’s why I cracked it up and made you think I could -see all sorts of wonders in it, when all the time I saw no more beauty -in it than there is in That.” And she pointed to the Hoodoo. - -William gave a little gasp. June heard the gasp. And in the mad -unhappiness of that moment she determined to spare herself nothing. She -would strip herself bare so that the whip might be better laid on. - -“Beauty means no more to me than it does to that Thing there. All your -talk about Hobbemas and Marises and Vermeers and Cromes are to me just -sloppy. They bore me stiff every time. I hate the sight of all these -things.” The wave of a wildly tragic hand included all the masterpieces -in the Long Gallery. “I hate them! I hate them! So now you know the -mean and dirty liar that I am.” - -No longer able to bear the sound of her strange and terrible words -he turned sickly away. It was almost as if they had opened a vein in -his heart. He remembered again the cry that had haunted him after his -seeing her first at the Hospital. “Am I struck? Am I like Uncle Si? Am -I like the Hoodoo?” - -Poor soul! It was not for him to judge her. He could only think of her -sufferings. And it was cruel indeed to realize what they must be now. - -“That’s why I don’t want the money. And that’s why I don’t mean to have -it. I burn when I think of it. Now you know how low down I am. I hope -you like the way I’ve cheated you.” - -He sought to take her hand, but she withdrew it fiercely. His very -goodness almost made her hate him. - - - - -LXII - - -BY the advice of Miss Babraham they planted a myrtle in the -jar of Knossos. Some days later the Hoodoo was haled into a convenient -corner of the Italian garden. Here, by the marge of a tiny rock-strewn -lake, the momentous rite was performed with a high solemnity. Much -displacement of mould and a considerable wheelbarrowing of the same was -necessary and Mr. Chrystal, the head gardener, had to advise in the use -of the trowel, an art in which neither June nor William was quite so -adept as they might have been. But at last, after some honest digging -and shovelling on the part of William who was not afraid to take off -his coat to the job, and timely help from Mr. Chrystal’s George who was -uncannily wise, although to be sure he had the experience of a lifetime -and a fairly long one to bring to bear on such matters, the thing was -done. - -June and William then retired to the fragrant shade of a budding lime, -feeling rather hot, yet not dissatisfied with their labours. It was a -perfect morning. Larks were hovering in the bright air. Blackbirds and -thrushes were trying out their grace-notes, and once June thought she -heard a nightingale. - -For a little they reclined in poetic comfort in two wicker chairs. -Fauns in marble, and Cupid, complete with bow and arrows lurked hard -by. At last June broke a delicious silence. - -“You must put your coat on,” she said suddenly. - -“But----” said William who really had delved and shovelled to some -purpose. - -June was not to be Butted--not this golden day. - -“If you don’t you might get a bad chill,” she said severely. - -William rose and did her bidding. And in the midst of that simple act, -a certain piece of confidential information, which Sir Arthur and Miss -Laura had been kind enough to supply at frequent intervals during the -last few days, recurred forcibly to his mind. It was to the effect -that “Miss Gedge was so practical she would make an ideal wife for an -artist.” - -As far as the major premise was concerned it was less irrelevant than -at first it might seem, for William had recently decided that an artist -was what he was going to be. In the very act of putting on his coat he -now recalled the high and sacred mystery to which his life was vowed. -And further he recalled that before entering the garden he had taken -the precaution of slipping a neat little sketching book and pencil into -his coat pocket. Thus, upon sitting down, in solemn silence he took -them forth and proceeded to draw. - -June it was who broke the silence, after some little while. - -“If you are drawing that myrtle,” she said, “it looks a bit potty to me -stuck up there. There’s nothing to it.” - -She was more her true self this happy morning than for many a tragic -month. - -“It’ll grow,” said the artist. - -“Won’t seem much if it doesn’t in that great jar. It was Miss -Babraham’s idea to stick it there, so it’s all right of course. She -said it was an emblem of what was it?” - -“Of marriage,” said the artist with an air of innocent abstraction. - -“Then she ought to have planted it herself--if she _is_ going to -be married.” - -“On the first of July. They’ve fixed the day.” - -“Oh,” said June. “Have you seen her young man?” - -“He came to lunch yesterday.” - -“Who is he?” - -“The Honourable Barrington, a gentleman in the Blues.” - -June frowned portentously. “I hope he’ll be good enough for her.” But -she didn’t sound very hopeful. - -“He’s a very nice gentleman.” - -“Ought to be if he’s going to marry _her_. But what I should like -to know is, why was she so set on you and me planting that myrtle when -she ought to have planted it herself.” - -“Don’t know, I’m sure, Miss June,” said the artist, not so much as -glancing up from his work. - -Once a Sawney always a Sawney. Perennially, it seemed, was she up -against the relentless workings of that natural law. Marriage, money, -commonsense, the really big things of life, meant so little to him -compared with windmills and myrtles, and things of that kind. Like her -beloved Miss Babraham, this dear and charming fellow was almost too -good to be true, but day by day the conviction was growing upon her -that he really did need somebody practical to look after him. And she -was not alone in thinking so. Miss Babraham, who knew so much about -everything, had already expressed that opinion to her quite strongly. - -Here he was, in the middle of a perfect morning, with all sorts of -really beautiful things about him, and larks and blackbirds quiring, -and the sun on the water and the Surrey hills, wasting his time -seemingly, by drawing that rather paltry looking little plant stuck up -there on the top of the Hoodoo. Even if it was the emblem of marriage -she could not help a subtle feeling of annoyance that he should not use -his precious time a bit better. - -However, the cream of the joke was to follow. - -The artist it was who quaintly burst this fresh bubble of silence. -“Talk as much as you like, Miss June,” he said with something a little -odd, a little unexpected in his manner, “but I hope you’ll keep your -hands in your lap just as they are now, and if you don’t mind will you -please bring your chin round a bit--on to a level with my finger.” - -“Please get on with that myrtle.” Before, however, the fiat was really -pronounced, she abruptly stopped. Could such a thing be? Was it -possible that he was not drawing the myrtle at all? - -It was more than possible. - -And that was the cream of the whole matter! - - - - -LXIII - - -“I’M not half as good looking as that,” said June. - -“All depends, don’t you know, on the angle at which one happens to get -you,” said William. - -It was the tone of a gentleman in the Blues speaking to Miss Babraham. -Yet it came so pat and so natural from the lips of an artist, that in -spite of herself, June could not help being a little awed by it. She -didn’t agree, yet she didn’t disagree; that is to say, as Miss Babraham -would have done, she agreed to disagree without contradicting the -artist flatly. - -Besides it is the whole duty of an artist to know just how people look -in all circumstances. Everybody looks better at some moments than at -others. June had no pretensions to be considered an artist herself, -but at that moment she knew just how William looked. In his new suit, -neat rather than smart and smart rather than neat--all depends don’t -you know on the angle at which one happened to get it!--with his mop -of fair hair brushed away from his fine forehead, and his yellow tie, -and the curves of that sensitive mouth, and those wonderful eyes and -those slim fingers, he looked fitted by nature to marry a real lady. -Indeed, in the course of the last few days, a suspicion had crossed -June’s mind that Miss Babraham thought so too; thus the apparition of -the Honourable Barrington and the definite fixing of the day had taken -a load off her mind. - -For all that other loads were still upon it. Since her nerve-storm in -the Long Gallery a week had passed. She was feeling much better now, -day by day she was growing stronger; nevertheless she was troubled -about many things. - -Foremost of these was the question so vital to a practical mind, of -ways and means. They both had to live. And if William had really made -up his mind to be an artist, he would need money and plenty of it for -leisure and study and foreign travel. She was rather glad, if only for -this reason, that he had been able to take such a bold decision. He -would be the more likely to accept that which really belonged to him: -the price of the Van Roon. - -Sir Arthur had now informed her that the sum the committee proposed to -offer for the Van Roon could be invested to produce a thousand a year -free of tax, and he strongly urged its acceptance, as she would be -relieved of all money difficulties for the rest of her life. To June it -sounded fabulous. She knew in her heart, besides, that she would never -be able to take this income for her own use. Every penny was William’s -and the task now before her was to bring home to him this fact. - -It did not take long to prove to her this morning that she was -attempting the impossible. The thousand a year, he declared, was hers -and nothing would induce him to touch a penny. Yielding in some ways, -in others as she had discovered already, for all his gentleness he was -a rock. - -Desperation now drove June to confess that she had never intended to -take the money. Even at the moment she had filched the Van Roon from -him with her wicked pretences, at the back of her mind had been the -wish to save him from himself. Always she had regarded herself as the -Van Roon’s trustee, so that he should not be victimized by the cunning -of Uncle Si, just as Sir Arthur was its trustee now, so that neither of -them should be robbed by the cunning of the world. - -She found all too soon, however, that it was vain to argue with him. -What he had given, he had given. As far as he was concerned, that was -the end of the whole matter. - -“Very well then,” said June vexedly, “if you won’t, you won’t. And I -shall present that picture to the nation in your name, and then you -won’t have a penny to live on and you’ll have to go on working in a -shop all your life for a small wage to make other people rich, instead -of being able to study and travel and make yourself a great artist.” - -She felt sure the half nelson was on him now. Even he, dreamer that he -was, must really bend to the force of pure reasoning! Beyond a doubt -she had got him. But he was not playing quite fair it seemed. With one -of his little dancing blushes that would have been deadly in a girl, he -was forced to own that he had not put all his cards on the table. - -To June’s sheer amazement he was keeping a little matter of twelve -hundred a year or so up his sleeve. - -“Didn’t know you had a rich aunt,” said June amazedly. - -“Not my rich aunt. Your rich uncle.” The odd creature grew tawnier, -more girl-like than ever. - -June lacking a clue as yet could only frown. “Come again. I don’t get -you.” It was not the Miss Babraham idiom, but with her patience giving -out and a new strength and sanity in her veins, she was in danger of -forgetting, just for a moment, that she was an honoured guest in the -most famous Italian garden in Surrey. - -Nevertheless in the very height of the eclipse a light shone. One of -the advantages of a mind really practical is, that when it turns to -financial matters, it works automatically at very high pressure. June’s -brow was cleft with the harrow of thought. “Do you mean to say,” she -figured slowly out, “that Uncle Si has left you all his property?” - -“His lawyers say so.” The voice of William had a slight tremor. - -“If his lawyers say so it is so,” said June with imperious finality. - -A pause of which a thrush, a blackbird and an entire orchestra of -skylarks took great advantage, came upon these inheritors in spite of -themselves; and then June pensively remarked, a little in the manner of -“Mr. Leopold” asking the Head Cashier what Consols had opened at this -morning, “he must have bought some property very lucky.” - -Quite simply William stated that such was the fact. “The lawyers say -that in 1895 he bought what they call a block in New Cross Street, -including Number 46, and that it’s been going up and up ever since, so -that now it’s worth about eight times what he gave for it.” - -In sheer incredulity June stared at him. She must be living in -fairyland. And then the sun flamed out from the merest apology for a -cloud which was all the April sky could boast at that moment and there -came an answering gleam from the burnished image before her eyes in -which they had lately planted a myrtle. - -“Much good it did him,” she said with a heavy sigh. - -William never told June the story of the old man lying dead before the -Hoodoo, nor had he disclosed his own indirect share in that tragic end. -He did not do so now, for this was not the time to enter into such an -unhappy matter. Yet without coming to details, June seemed with that -power of clairvoyance she had lately acquired, to divine the whole -pitiful business. “Miserable old miser,” she said in a voice the birds -could not hear. “He must have died like a dog.” - -William’s tragic eyes could only be interpreted by his own heart. - -A look so forlorn led June to notice the new lines in his face and his -smouldering depth of eye. “I believe you were the only living thing he -ever cared for, and yet it used to make my blood boil the way he----” -The anguish in his eyes brought her up short. - -In went the sun, as quickly as it had come out. _La Signora Aprile e -volubile_, in England at any rate, whatever her mood in more genial -climes. June shivered slightly as if a chill breath in the gentle wind -had touched her. She glanced at the new wrist watch, whose acceptance -William had craved two days before she left the Hospital. Nearly one -o’clock already and it would never do to shew disrespect to Mrs. -Chrystal’s famous chicken-broth. - -They got up together, yet as they did so they felt that the best of the -spring day was fled. Now that the sun had gone in, the Hoodoo yonder -was monarch once more of all he looked upon. - -What a thing life was! Yet by now both were wise enough not to think -too much about it. God knew it could be ugly, but dwelling upon its -complexities only made them seem worse. - -Besides there was no time for deep thoughts. It was six minutes to one. -Luncheon at the House, where William, as became a man of acknowledged -genius, was an honoured guest, was sharp at the hour. The honoured -guest would only just have time to wash his hands and brush his hair. -And so he was not able to accompany June along the rectangular path -which led from the main avenue direct to Mrs. Chrystal’s. - -Moreover she didn’t want him to. She understood his hurry. Also he -understood hers. Besides each craved a moment, after all, to consider -life and just where they stood in it. - -“I have to rest this afternoon,” said June. “And I suppose you have to -get on with the cleaning of the Mathew Thingamy. But if it’s as fine -to-morrow morning as it has been to-day, let us meet under this tree -about eleven. And then you can put in the last touches while I read -“Pride and Prejudice” by Jane Austen that Miss Babraham’s lent me. -Seems a bit old-fashioned, but it’s classic of course. I dare say it’ll -improve as it gets better.” - -Whereon June took the bypath abruptly, and William, his six minutes -reduced to four, stepped out towards the House. Life and its -complexities did not get therefore, much of a show at the moment, yet -both of them must have been giving these high matters some little -thought, for as June reached the eucalyptus tree she halted and -half-turned and looked just for one instant back. And she found that -William, now on a level with the second Cupid on the main gravel, and -his four minutes reduced to three and a quarter, had also halted, and -half-turned to follow her example. - - - - -LXIV - - -JUNE always maintained that the Idea was William’s. He, on the -other hand, always maintained that the Idea was hers. But whatever the -truth of the matter in its centrality, there was really no doubt that -it was Miss Babraham who thought of the car. To her alone belonged that -minor yet still substantial glory. As for the luncheon basket, although -that honour was claimed for her as well, it may have owed something -to Sir Arthur, for June and William were agreed that the weighty and -practical genius of that man of the world was visible in this important -detail. - -It was just after nine on as promising a morning of early May as the -much and justly derided climate of Britain was able to produce for a -signal occasion, when Mr. Mitchell the chauffeur in his livery of Robin -Hood green, with buff collar and cuffs, arrived at Mrs. Chrystal’s -door with Sir Arthur’s touring car. Inside, as if to the manner -born, sat William in a fleecy grey ulster which June had no idea he -possessed--and for that matter it was Sir Arthur who possessed it--and -almost the last word in hats, which if you happened to catch its wearer -in profile, as June chanced to do at the moment the car drew up, made -him look uncommonly distinguished. - -But so much depends, don’t you know, in these little matters upon the -angle--etc. - -“What time do you expect to be back, Mr. Mitchell?” asked Mrs. -Chrystal from her doorstep, as that hero, a wisdom-bitten veteran of -the Great War, which had ended before William began--that is to say -Class 1920 was never called up--ushered June into the chariot with rare -solemnity. - -“Back did you say, ma’am?” said Mr. Mitchell closing the door gently -upon the travellers. “There you have me. We’ve to go as fur as the -heart o’ Suffolk and back again.” - -Mrs. Chrystal knew that. Hence the question. - -“Accordin’ to this map,” Mr. Mitchell pointed to the canvas back of -Road Guide Number 6, Series 14, which was on the vacant seat beside his -own, “Crowdham Market may take a bit o’ findin’. Still if the roads are -all right, I dessay we’ll be home by the risin’ o’ the moon.” - -“My reason for asking is that I’m wondering about the young lady’s -supper. However, I’ll expect you when I see you, because as you say -Crowdham Market may be a funny place to get at.” - -In the opinion of June, who heard this conversation, Mrs. Chrystal was -fully justified in thinking so. They were about to start on a journey -to Cloud Cuckoo Land. - -A very romantic journey it was. Up hill and down dale they went, by -devious lanes and unsuspected ways across a noble sweep of country. -Zephyrs played gently upon their faces; the sun shone, the birds sang; -the smooth-gliding car made little dust and less noise; they sat side -by side; it was a royal progress. - -The Idea itself was William’s, June always maintained, that they -should go to Crowdham Market and find the poor old woman who kept the -tumbledown shop, where perhaps as much out of pity as anything, he had -given five shillings for the Van Roon. They could well afford to make -her comfortable for life with an annuity, the precise amount of which -Sir Arthur might be asked to fix if they could not themselves agree -upon it. Indeed the whole question of the Van Roon’s fabulous proceeds -was still vexed. Neither would move an inch. June still vowed she would -not touch the money. William vowed that he would not touch it either, -but he had gone so far as to suggest that he should buy the thing back -from her with a part of the property her uncle had left him. To this -property he somehow felt he had no lawful claim; yet by means of it he -would be able to add, free gratis and for nothing, one masterpiece the -more to “his treasure house” in Trafalgar Square. - -June, with the frankness for which she was famous, did not hesitate -to denounce the scheme as crazy. Even the Sir Arthur Babrahams of the -world, who were simply rolling in money, thought twice about giving -fortunes away. What did he suppose was going to become of his career as -an artist if he stripped himself of the means of pursuing it? - -That, of course, was where she had him. And as they sat side by side on -this golden journey to East Anglia, they divided the forenoon between -admiring the scenery and discussing the problem in all its aspects. - -“You talk of France and Spain and Italy.” The note of scorn was -mellowed considerably by the romance of the occasion. “You talk of -studying the pictures in the Louvre and the Prado and the Uffizi -Gallery.” She had really got to grips with Culture now. With an -indomitable will, an inflexible ambition and a brand new course of -memory training to help her; she was not only learning to remember -outlandish words, but how and when and in what order to use them. -“You talk of Rembrandt and Titian and Velasky, but I’m thinking those -foreign landladies’ll get your size before you can say Knife. My -opinion is you’ll need somebody _always_ with you to see that they -don’t take it off you.” - -“Take what off me, Miss June?” inquired His Innocence. - -There was a question! - -“Your pram, of course, your teddy bear, and your feeding bottle.” She -added the opprobrious term “You Gaby!” not however for the ear of this -Dreamer, but for the benefit of the pleasant town of Malden, on whose -outskirts they were already. - -“When you get to Paris and find yourself in the Prado studying Paul -Very-uneasy, you’ll be lucky if you get away with as much as a -bootlace. Mr. Boultby used to say French landladies were awful.” - -“Did he,” said the Dreamer; and then with a sudden animation: “Do you -see that water wagtail on the lip of that pool?” - -June pointedly ignored the water wagtail. - -“You ought to have somebody to look after you when you go to -Paris--somebody who understands the value of money.” - -“The less value money has for an artist the better,” said William the -sententious. - -“Mr. Boultby would call that poppycock,” said June, equally sententious. - -What William really meant to say was that the less an artist thought -about money the better for his art, that an artist painted better for -love than for filthy lucre and so on, that the great masters were born -poor as a rule and often died poor and that nothing was so likely as -money to distract the mind from the quest of beauty. - -These, to be sure, were not his exact words. His thoughts were clothed -more neatly in the William way. But such was the sum and substance of -what they came down to, and June was so pained by his line of argument -that the contents of the luncheon basket on the opposite seat were -needed to sustain her. - -After patiently reasoning with such wrong-headedness, she looked at -her watch and found it was one o’clock. As there was never a sign at -present of Crowdham Market, they decided to begin on what the gods had -provided. Egg and tomato sandwiches were at the top of the basket with -a layer of ham underneath, and below that a most authentic cake with -almonds in it; all of which were delicious. - -The meal, if anything, was even better than the conversation, though -that also was on an extremely high level. They were very honourable in -their dealings with the luncheon basket. Share and share alike was the -order of the day, with a third share of everything religiously laid by -for Mr. Mitchell whenever he might feel justified in slowing up to eat -it. Even a full third of the basket’s crowning glory was laid by for -Mr. Mitchell--to wit, a large vacuum flask of coffee, piping hot. - -It was a few minutes after two when they reached Crowdham Market and -drew up at the Unicorn Inn. Here, six months ago, William had discussed -the great drought with Miss Ferris, the landlady’s daughter, one of -those high-coloured girls who June could see at a glance was a minx. - -Promising to be back in an hour, which was all that Mr. Mitchell could -allow if they were to be home before the rising of the moon, June and -William, feeling more romantic than ever before in their lives, set out -on a pilgrimage up the High Street. It was the only street in the town -which aspired to a sense of importance; the point in fact towards which -all meaner streets converged. One of these it was they had now to find. - -Alas, from the outset there was a grave doubt in the mind of William -in the matter of his bearings. To the best of his recollection the old -woman’s shop was either the second or third turning up, then to the -left, then across, and then to the left again into an obscure alley of -which he had forgotten the name. That was like him. In June’s private -opinion, it was also like him, although _lèse-majesté_ of course, -to let him know it, to take her to look for a serendipity shop in a -bottle of hay. - -William knew neither the name of the old woman, nor the byway that had -contained her, and in the course of half an hour’s meandering it grew -clear to the practical mind of June that she was in serious danger -of having to go without her annuity. Having come so far it would be -humiliating to return with a tale of total defeat; yet up till now -these emotions had been held in check by the romance of the case. - -Mr. Mitchell’s hour was all but sped, when William stopped abruptly. -Light had come. He had hit the trail. - -At the corner of the lane into which for the third time they had -penetrated, was an enticing little shop called Middleton’s Dairy. The -sight of it brought back to William’s mind a recollection. Immediately -the picture had been acquired, he went into that shop to get a bun -and a glass of milk. Pausing a moment to wrestle with his sense of -locality, he gazed down the street. The old woman’s store would be just -opposite. - -Only a glance was needed to show that the old woman’s store was not -just opposite. The housebreakers had been recently at work and the -decrepit block of which her premises formed a part was razed to the -ground. - -Faced by the problem of what had happened to the old woman the only -thing now was to enter Middleton’s Dairy and enquire. They were -cordially received by a girl who in June’s opinion showed too many -teeth when she smiled to be really good looking; who, also, in June’s -opinion, wore corsets that didn’t suit her figure, and whose hair would -have looked better had it been bobbed. - -Like Miss Ferris, the landlady’s daughter, this girl seemed to remember -William quite well, which was rather odd June felt, since he had only -been once in the town previously and then for but a few hours. The -inference to be drawn from the fact was that William was William, and -that in an outlandish one-horse place like Crowdham Market, young men -of his quality were necessarily at a premium. - -But at the moment that was neither here nor there. And with equal truth -the formula applied to the old woman. However, in regard to her it -seemed, they were now in the way of getting information. - -After William, with a certain particularity had described the old -creature and her shop to the girl who kept on showing her teeth while -he did so, he was informed that she was known among the neighbours as -Mother Stark. And the poor old thing, the girl understood, had been -turned out of house and home because she could no longer pay her rates -and taxes. - -“Half her side of the Lane’s pulled down,” said June, who now came into -the conversation on a note of slight asperity. - -“Oh, yes,” said Miss Smiler, to William rather than to June, “the site -has been bought by a company.” - -“Putting a museum on it I suppose,” said June. - -“No, not a museum,” said Miss Smiler in a level voice ignoring June’s -irony either because she did not see it, or because she did, which in -any case perhaps was just as well for her. - -“A chicken run?” June surmised with a disdainful eye upon a nice basket -of new laid eggs, five for a shilling. - -No, the site had not been acquired for a chicken run. Miss Smiler -understood they were going to build a picture house. - -June gazed solemnly at William. And her gaze was frankly and faithfully -returned. A picture house on the spot where a Van Roon had lain hidden -and unknown for who knew how many years! - -What a world it was! Could Mother Stark but have guessed she would not -have needed a Company to take over her premises. - -“What’s become of her? Can you tell us?” said June. - -“Had to go to the Workhouse, I believe, poor soul,” said the girl, who -had a good heart. - -June looked at William. William looked at June. - -“Is the Workhouse far from here--please can you tell us?” It was -William who asked the question. - -The Workhouse, it seemed, was not far. In fact it was quite near. To -get there you had only to go to the end of the lane, turn to the left, -cross the recreation ground and the footbridge over the canal, and keep -on bearing to the left and you couldn’t miss it. - -“Will it take long?” The question was June’s. And a glance at her wrist -accompanied it. - -“Not more than five minutes.” - -“Thank you very much indeed. We are greatly obliged to you.” William it -was who brought the conversation to a climax with a lift of the hat. - - - - -LXV - - -THERE was only one thing to be done now. Mr. Mitchell’s hour -was up, but there was no help for it. The Workhouse, as the girl had -said--she might, in June’s opinion have had a claim to good looks if -she had not suffered from “a rush of teeth to the head”--was not more -than five minutes away if you followed her instructions. - -As June had the matter in hand, the instructions were followed to the -letter and they arrived at the Workhouse without delay. But as the -pile, dark and grim, came into view at the far side of the canal, an -odd emotion suddenly brought them up with a round turn. - -A long moment they gazed at the bleak and frowning thing before their -eyes. And then June said with a laugh, “I’m thinking that’s where -you’ll be one day, if you don’t find someone who isn’t a genius to look -after you.” - -The words came from the heart, yet William did not appear to hear them. -“Reminds one,” he murmured half to himself, “of that little thing of -Duclaux’s called The Poor House.” - -June’s puzzlement was revealed by a frown. - -“There’s an exhibition of his pictures just now at the Bond Street -Gallery. Wonderful line. A great sense of mass effect.” - -“You can’t tell me,” said June, “there’s beauty in a thing like -that--in that old Workhouse?” - -“Duclaux would say so, with that dark cloud cutting across the gable. -And that bend of the Canal in the foreground is not without value.” He -smiled his rare smile which never had looked so divine. But June was a -little afraid of it now. She kept her eyes the other way. - -“Canal,” she said with brevity. “Not without value. I should say so. As -we say at Blackhampton, ‘where there’s muck there’s money.’” - -She glanced at her wrist again. Another ten minutes credited now to Mr. -Mitchell’s account. - -“Duclaux, I suppose, would see it this way.” The queer fellow stepped -back two paces, put up his hand to shade his eyes and adjust his vision -to look at the Workhouse. - -This was Pure Pottiness, the concentrated essence in tabloid form. -However, Miss Babraham had already impressed upon June the deep truth -that genius must be allowed a margin. - -A little faint of heart she rang the bell of the gloomy and forbidding -door. The summons was heeded, tardily and with reluctance, by its -janitor, a surly male. - -“Can we see Mrs. Stark?” asked June. - -“Eh?” said the janitor. He must have been deaf indeed not to have heard -the question in its cool clarity. June repeated it; whereon the keeper -of the door looked her slowly up and down, turning over the name in his -mind as he did so. - -“Mother Stark she was called,” said June, for his further -enlightenment. “She sold all kinds of old rubbish at a shop that used -to be opposite Middleton’s Dairy at the top of Love Lane.” - -“Mother Stark you say!” Light was coming to the janitor. “No, you can’t -see her.” - -“Why not? The matter’s important.” - -“She’s been in her grave this two month--that’s why not,” said the -janitor. - -“Oh,” said June; and then after brief commerce with the eye of William: -“Has she any relations or friends?” - -The answer was no. Mother Stark had had a parish burial. - -William thanked Diogenes with that courtesy which was never-failing -and inimitable; and then after one more swift glance at each other, -they turned away, feeling somehow, a little overcome, yet upheld by -the knowledge of being through at last with the matter of the poor old -thing’s annuity. - -Returning in their tracks across the canal footbridge, across the -recreation ground, up the lane, past the site of the new picture house, -past Middleton’s Dairy, they entered the High Street, without haste, in -spite of Mr. Mitchell, and with a gravity new and strange, as if they -both felt now the hand of destiny upon them. - -Heedless of all the Mr. Mitchells in the universe, they walked very -slowly to draw out the last exquisite drop of a moment of bliss that, -no matter what life had in store, they could never forget. And then for -some mystic reason, June’s brain grew incandescent. It became a thing -of dew and fire. Ideas formed within it, broke from it, took shape in -the ambient air. She might have been treading the upper spaces of -Elysium, except that no girl’s feet were ever planted more firmly or -more shrewdly upon the pavement of High Street, Crowdham Market. - -Four doors from the Unicorn Inn was the most fashionable jeweller’s -shop in the town, perhaps for the reason that there was no other; and -as they came level with the window a spark flashed from its depths and -met an instant answer in the eye of June. Nearly an hour behind the -schedule they were now, yet they lingered one moment more, while June -drew William’s attention to a coincidence. The vital spark it seemed, -owed its being to a gem set in a ring which was almost a replica of the -one worn by Miss Babraham in honor of its giver, who of course was a -gentleman in the Blues. - -“It’s as like Miss Babraham’s engagement ring as one pea is like -another pea,” said June in a soft voice. - -In the course of their friendship, William had been guilty of many -silences of a disgraceful impersonality; and he was now guilty of one -more. He glanced at the ring with a wistful eye, sighed a little, -and then with slow reluctance moved on. June accompanied him to the -very threshold of the Unicorn Inn. And upon its doorstep of all -places, within hearing of the Office, wherein lurked Miss Ferris, -the landlady’s daughter, he faced about, and then by way of an -after-thought, his head apparently still full of Duclaux, began to -stammer. - -“Miss June if I go back and get that ring will you--will you -promise--to--to----?” - -Miss Ferris was in the Office; the top of her coiffure was to be seen -above the frosted glass. And the Office door was wide open; June, -therefore, gave her answer in a very low and gentle voice. - -Her answer, for all that, did not lack pith. “If only you’ll cut out -the Miss, I’ll wear it like Miss Babraham--on my heart finger.” - - - - -LXVI - - -BACK they went to the jeweller’s four doors up. To the expert eye -of William, the ring on inspection was so little like Miss Babraham’s -that he seemed to have a qualm about buying it. He had a fancy for -moonstones and diamonds, but Crowdham Market’s only jeweller did not -run to these. June was firm, besides, that the ring in her hand was -cheap at nine guineas, and as no one could call it vulgar, it was -quite good enough. - -William was sure it was nothing like good enough. “But when we get to -London, you shall have moonstones and diamonds.” - -“That’ll be lovely,” said June; and a deep thrill ran in her heart as -she realized that her dreams were coming true. - -William took a wad of Bradburys from his breast pocket. He was now a -man of property, with a rent roll of twelve hundred a year, but even a -most careful counting would not let them muster more than seven. June, -however, as became the lawful owner of an Old Master, whom to acquire -for the nation a committee had been lately formed, was equal to the -occasion. For she promptly took a wad from the vanity bag which now -graced her travels instead of her mother’s old purse, and made up the -sum. - -In the meantime, the jeweller, a man of ripe experience, had put two -and two together. - -“Will you wear it, madam, or will you have it packed in the box?” - -An unconventional question, no doubt, but places like Crowdham Market -are close to nature and get down to bedrock by short cuts. - -“I’ll wear it,” June answered. “And I’ll have the box as well. It’ll do -for my dressing table to keep pins in.” - -The jeweller, one of the old school, bowed to June as he handed her the -box and also the change. And then, a jeweller with a fine technique, he -smiled at William in a Masonic manner and handed him the ring. - -June, as cool as if she was on parade, removed a white kid glove from -her left hand. “That’s the heart finger,” she said. - -If she blushed a little, the jeweller was too busy writing out the -receipt at the other end of the shop to be aware of the fact. - - - - -LXVII - - -THEY decided to ask Miss Ferris, the landlady’s daughter, for -a cup of tea, before they set out on the journey home. June felt she -could afford to take the risk, since by now the situation was well in -hand. Mr. Mitchell raised no objection. Himself an ampler man for a -noble lunch, he had been recounting tales of Araby and lands of fair -renown in the privacy of the Office. His suit of Robin Hood green and -a certain gallantry of bearing had made considerable impact in an -amazingly short time, not upon Miss Ferris merely, but upon her widowed -mother, the sole proprietress of the Unicorn Inn, who in the words of -the local manager of the East Anglia and Overtons Bank “was the warmest -woman in Crowdham Market.” - -While Mr. Mitchell (Sergeant, R.E., D.C.M. with clasp), and the widow -were in the garden admiring the early pansies, June and William sat -down to tea in the coffee room. Even there the contiguity of Miss -Ferris had rather a tendency to cramp June’s style. High-coloured girl, -she was a little inclined to take liberties as she passed around the -table. And when June, in her sweetest and best Miss Babraham manner, -asked if they might have some crab apple jam, she caught the glint of -the ring on June’s heart finger in a way so direct that she murmured -something about having to look out for her eyesight--or words equally -ill-bred--and nearly dropped the tea pot. - -By the time they got under way and the nose of the car was set for the -pleasant land of Surrey, a doubt infected the mind of Mr. Mitchell as -to whether they would make Homefield before midnight. Neither June -nor William seemed to care very much whether they did or whether -they didn’t. The car was most comfortable, the sense of romance hot -upon them still, the presence of each other vital and delicious in -their consciousness. Mile passed upon mile. The endless spool of road -continued to unwind itself, a little wind breathed gentle nothings, Mr. -Mitchell sat four-square in front, the birds still sang, but the sun -was going down. - -Saying very little, they lived never-to-be-forgotten hours. Now and -again William pointed to a bird or a tree, the fold of a hill, the form -of a cloud, the gleam of a distant water. Yet for the most part the -nearness of each other was all sufficing. June began to nestle closer; -the chill of night came on. Saying less than ever now, moonstones and -diamonds stole upon her thoughts. She was haunted by a lovely fear that -she could not live up to them. And then softly and more soft, she began -to breathe with a rhythmical rise and fall, slowly deepening to a faint -crescendo that blended with the motions of the car. - -East by west of nowhere came the high moment when the sun was not, -and the moon not yet. Somewhere over Surrey a star was dancing. Very -shyly and gently he ventured to give her a kiss. She stirred ever so -little. A bird spoke from a brake, a note clear and wonderful, yet the -month was young for the nightingale. But this was Cloud Cuckoo Land, a -divine country in which the nightingale may be heard at odd seasons. - -Psyche stirred again. With a reverence chaste and simple he gave her a -second kiss, deep and slow. The solemn sacrament was fire to the soul -of an artist. And then he gave a little gasp. The high gods in his -brain whispered that the moon was coming. - -The moon was coming. - -Yes, there she was, the sovereign lady! He sat very still, praying, -praying that he might surprise some holy secret, hidden even from -Duclaux. - -She was very wonderful to-night. Her loveliness was more than he could -bear. There was a touch of intimacy in her magic; the country over -which she shone was elfland. He seemed to hear a faint familiar sound -of horns. Or it might have been the swift gliding of the car. - -In the quietness of the spirit’s ecstasy he could have wept. - -Might it be given to Duclaux to see her, lovely lady, just as he could -see her now! - -But he mustn’t dare to breathe or the vision would be forever lost. - - THE END - - - - -NOVELS BY J. C. SNAITH - - -=THE VAN ROON= - -A remarkable novel, human to its very core, which tells of how a -painting by an old master, newly discovered, became a cause of love and -hate among a curious and delightful group of characters. - - -=THE COUNCIL OF SEVEN= - -International mystery in which seven men come to grips with a -war-preaching newspaper-syndicate. The hero, typical Snaith character, -fights boldly against strangling intrigue. - - -=THE UNDEFEATED= - -“It is distinctly a big novel--a book of vision and of understanding, -of truth and beauty.”--_New York Times._ - -“The simplest and straightest work imaginable and mightily -impressive.”--_Washington Star._ - - -=THE SAILOR= - -“It is a book that overwhelms the reader by the poignant and -magnificent message that it carries. It is a book that is -unforgettable.”--_Springfield Union._ - -“Interpretative, creative work of a very high order.”--_New York -Times._ - - -=THE ADVENTUROUS LADY= - -A sparkling social comedy, top-full of delightful situations and -characters, seasoned with incomparable humor and youthful buoyancy. - - -=THE TIME SPIRIT= - -“The verbal fencing, sparkling colloquy and keen, swift repartee -alone raise the story far above the dead level of society -fiction.”--_Philadelphia North American._ - - -=THE COMING= - -“Mr. Snaith handles his theme delicately, poetically, with a fine and -sensitive reverence.”--_Independent._ - -“It is a daring performance of impressive and triumphant -strength.”--_New York Tribune._ - - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - New York London - - - - -A CHOICE SHELF OF NOVELS - - -=ABBÉ PIERRE= - -By JAY WILLIAM HUDSON - -This charming novel of life in quaint Gascony is proving that a novel -that is a work of truest art can be a best seller of the widest -popularity. - - -=WAY OF REVELATION= - -By WILFRID EWART - -A realistic novel of the great war which presents with startling truth -and accuracy the effect of the conflict upon a group of intensely -interesting characters. - - -=THE MERCY OF ALLAH= - -By HILAIRE BELLOC, Author of “The Path to Rome,” etc. - -A brilliant and highly entertaining satire on modern business, which -tells of how Mahmoud, by the Mercy of Allah and his own keen wits, -accumulated a vast fortune. - - -=THE RICH LITTLE POOR BOY= - -By ELEANOR GATES, Author of “The Poor Little Rich Girl,” etc. - -A whimsical, humorous fantasy of a poor little boy’s search for -happiness. - - -=MOTHER= - -By MAXIM GORKY. Introduction by Charles Edward Russell. - -Wide interest is being displayed in Gorky’s story of Russia before the -Revolution. - - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - New York London - - - - -AMONG THE NEWEST NOVELS - - -=THE HOUSE OF MOHUN= - -By GEORGE GIBBS, Author of “Youth Triumphant,” etc. - -A distinguished novel depicting present day society and its most -striking feature, the “flapper.” A story of splendid dramatic qualities. - - -=THE COVERED WAGON= - -By EMERSON HOUGH, Author of “The Magnificent Adventure,” “The Story of -the Cowboy,” etc. - -A novel of the first water, clear and clean, is this thrilling story of -the pioneers, the men and women who laid the foundation of the great -west. - - -=HOMESTEAD RANCH= - -By ELIZABETH G. YOUNG - -The _New York Times_ says that “Homestead Ranch” is one of the -season’s “two best real wild and woolly western yarns.” The _Boston -Herald_ says, “So delightful that we recommend it as one of the best -western stories of the year.” - - -=SACRIFICE= - -By STEPHEN FRENCH WHITMAN, Author of “Predestined,” etc. - -How a woman, spoiled child of New York society, faced the dangers of -the African jungle trail. “One feels ever the white heat of emotional -conflict.”--_Philadelphia Public Ledger._ - - -=DOUBLE-CROSSED= - -By W. DOUGLAS NEWTON, Author of “Low Ceilings,” etc. - -“An excellently written and handled tale of adventure and thrills in -the dark spruce valleys of Canada.”--_New York Times._ - - -=JANE JOURNEYS ON= - -By RUTH COMFORT MITCHELL, Author of “Play the Game,” etc. - -The cheerful story of a delightful heroine’s adventures from Vermont to -Mexico. - - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - New York London - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - -On page 10, finger-nail has been changed to finger nail. - -On page 15, packing-case has been changed to packing case. - -On page 31, “top if” has been changed to “top of”. - -On page 70, “was not be” has been changed to “was not to be”. - -On page 73, “severity that” has been changed to “severity than”. - -On page 75, once side has been changed to one side. - -On page 111, none-such has been changed to non-such. - -On pages 154 and 194, Jane has been changed to June. - -On page 189, shop-door has been changed to shop door. - -On page 258, that has been changed to than. - -On page 319, being has been changed to been. - -On page 321, Jane Eliot has been changed to Jane Austen. - -Minor, quiet corrections have been made to punctuation, to conform to -common usage. - -All other hyphenation, variant and archaic spellings and accented -dialogue have been retained. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VAN ROON *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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