was on the easel.

“How much is bid?” he called out.

Everybody looked round, and the auctioneer replied, “It’s just been sold.”

[7]There was a laugh, Grafton looked so wild and strange. Leaning on the arm of the nurse he went to the settlement desk. “To whom was that picture sold?” he said to the clerk.

[7]

“On a cable from Paris, Mr. Grafton,” interrupted one of the members of the auction firm. “We’ve had a standing order from Candace Brothers for five years to let them know if the picture came or was likely to come into the market. And they’ve cabled every six months to remind us. When Mr. Acton decided to sell, we sent word. They ordered us to buy, with fifteen thousand dollars as the limit.”

Grafton was furious; he would gladly have paid twenty. “And what did it go for?” he asked.

“Seventeen hundred,” replied the dealer. “Everybody was suspicious of it. We[8] would have got it for five hundred, if it hadn’t been for an artist; he bid it up to his limit.”

[8]

“I must sit,” said Grafton to his nurse. “This is too much—too much.”

He was little the worse for his imprudence, and was able to sail on the steamer that carried the picture. He beat it to Paris, and went at once to Candace Brothers, strolling in as if he had no purpose beyond killing time by looking about. He slowly led the conversation round to a point where Louis Candace, to whom he was talking, would naturally begin to think of the Acton sale.

“We’re getting in several pictures from New York,” said Candace—“from the Acton sale.”

“I was ill while it was on,” said Grafton, carelessly. “What did you take?”

[9]“A Rousseau, a Corot, a Wyant, and a—Velasquez.” He hesitated before speaking the last name, and looked confused as Grafton slightly elevated his eyebrows. “Of course,” he hurried on, “we strongly suspect the Velasquez; in fact, we know it’s not genuine. But we’re delighted to get it.”

[9]

“I don’t understand,” said Grafton. “I know you too 

 Prev. P 4/70 next