on the top of one another for scores of years."

"Possibly. I can't see the slightest difference in the smallest
particular. Even now I cannot rid myself of the feeling that I am the
victim of some kind of plot or delusion. The house is quiet now and there
is nobody about. Before I believe the evidence of my senses--and I have
had cause to doubt them more than once--I should like to compare this
print with mine. Will you follow me to the gallery, if you haven't
forgotten the way?"

Littimer took up the treasure from the table gingerly.

He was pleased and at the same time disappointed; pleased to find that he
had been mistaken all these years, sorry in the knowledge that his
picture was unique no longer. He said nothing until the alcove was
reached, and Chris drew back in the shadow to let the others pass.

"Now to settle the question for all time," Littimer said. "Will you be so
good as to turn on the electric light? You will find the switch in the
angle of the wall on your right. And when we have settled the affair and
I have apologized to you in due form, you shall command my services and
my purse to right the wrong. If it costs me L10,000 the man who has done
this thing shall suffer. Please to put up the light, Bell."

Chris listened breathlessly. She was not quite certain what she was about
to see. She could hear Bell fumbling for the light, she heard the click
of the switch, and then she saw the brilliant belt of flame flooding the
alcove. Littimer paused and glanced at Bell, the latter looked round the
alcove as if seeking for something.

"I cannot see the picture here," he said. "If have made a mistake--"

Littimer stood looking at the speaker with eyes like blazing stars. Just
for a moment or two he was speechless with indignation.

"You charlatan," he said, hoarsely. "You barefaced trickster."

Bell started back. His mute question stung Littimer to the quick.

"You wanted to be cleared," the latter said. "You wanted to befool me
again. You come here in some infernally cunning fashion, you steal my
picture from the frame and have the matchless audacity to pass it off for
a second one. Man alive, if it were earlier I would have you flogged from
the house like the ungrateful dog that you are."

Chris checked down the cry that rose to her lips. She saw, as in a flash
of lightning, the brilliancy and simplicity and cunning of Henson's
latest and most masterly scheme.

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE FRAME