had no words for the moment. But his quick intelligence
and amazing cunning grasped the possibilities of the situation. Littimer
was in possession of information to which he was a stranger. Except in a
vague way he had not the remotest idea what Littimer was talking about.
But the younger man must not know that.

"So Van Sneck told you so?" he asked. "What a fool he must have been! And
why should he come seeking for the Rembrandt in Brighton?"

"Because he knows it was there, I suppose."

"It isn't here, because it doesn't exist. The thing was destroyed by
accident by the police when they raided Van Sneck's lodgings years ago."

"Van Sneck told me that he had actually seen the picture in Brighton."

Henson chuckled. The noise was intended to convey amused contempt, and it
had that effect, so far as Littimer was concerned. It was well for Henson
that the latter could not see the strained anxiety of his face. The man
was alert and quivering with excitement in every limb. Still he chuckled
again as if the whole thing merely amused him.

"'The Crimson Blind' is Van Sneck's weak spot," he said. "It is King
Charles's head to him. By good or bad luck--it is in your hands to say
which--you know all about the way in which it became necessary to get
Hatherly Bell on our side. All the same, the Rembrandt--the _other_
one--is destroyed."

"Van Sneck has seen the picture," Littimer said, doggedly.

"Oh, play the farce out to the end," Henson laughed, good-humouredly.
"Where did he see it?"

"He says he saw it at 218, Brunswick Square."

Henson's knees suddenly came up to his nose, then he lay quite flat again
for a long time. His face had grown white once more, his lips utterly
bloodless. Fear was written all over him. A more astute man than Littimer
would have seen the beads standing out on his forehead. It was some
little time before he dared trust himself to speak again.

"I know the house you mean," he said. "It is next door to the temporary
residence of my esteemed friend, Gilead Gates. At the present moment the
place is void--"

"And has been ever since your bogus 'Home' broke up. Years ago, before
you used your power to rob and oppress us as you do now, you had a Home
there. You collected subscriptions right and left in the name of the
Reverend Felix Crosbie, and you put the money into your pocket. A certain
weekly journal exposed you, and you had to leave suddenly or you would
have found yourself in the hands o