; but the Doctor
was in treaty at present with the Louvre and with Berlin. Still,
it was a pity a fine work of art like that, once brought into the
country, should be allowed to go out of it. Some patriotic patron
of the fine arts ought to buy it for his own house, or else
munificently present it to the nation.

All the time Charles said nothing. But I could feel him cogitating.
He even looked behind him once, near a difficult corner (while the
guard was actually engaged in tootling his horn to let passers-by
know that the coach was coming), and gave Amelia a warning glance
to say nothing committing, which had at once the requisite effect
of sealing her mouth for the moment. It is a very unusual thing
for Charles to look back while driving. I gathered from his doing
so that he was inordinately anxious to possess this Rembrandt.

When we arrived at Lewes we put up our horses at the inn,
and Charles ordered a lunch on his wonted scale of princely
magnificence. Meanwhile we wandered, two and two, about the town
and castle. I annexed Lady Belleisle, who is at least amusing.
Charles drew me aside before starting. "Look here, Sey," he
said, "we must be _very_ careful. This man, Polperro, is a chance
acquaintance. There's nothing an astute rogue can take one in over
more easily than an Old Master. If the Rembrandt is genuine I
ought to have it; if it really represents Maria Vanrenen, it's a
duty I owe to the boys to buy it. But I've been done twice lately,
and I won't be done a third time. We must go to work cautiously."

"You are right," I answered. "No more seers and curates!"

"If this man's an impostor," Charles went on--"and in spite of what
he says about the National Gallery and so forth, we know nothing of
him--the story he tells is just the sort of one such a fellow would
trump up in a moment to deceive me. He could easily learn who I
was--I'm a well-known figure; he knew I was in Brighton, and he
may have been sitting on that glass seat on Sunday on purpose to
entrap me."

"He introduced your name," I said, "and the moment he found out who
I was he plunged into talk with me."

"Yes," Charles continued. "He may have learned about the portrait
of Maria Vanrenen, which my grandmother always said was preserved
at Gouda; and, indeed, I myself have often mentioned it, as you
doubtless remember. If so, what more natural, say, for a rogue than
to begin talking about the portrait in that innocent way to Amelia?
If he