yde the record of such a work
would be! In some ways it seemed to be the summing up of the master's
thought, the key to his enigmatic philosophy.

The doctor had risen and was walking slowly toward the door. His
daughter unlocked it, and Wyant followed them back in silence to the
room in which they had left Mrs. Lombard. That lady was no longer there,
and he could think of no excuse for lingering.

He thanked the doctor, and turned to Miss Lombard, who stood in the
middle of the room as though awaiting farther orders.

"It is very good of you," he said, "to allow one even a glimpse of such
a treasure."

She looked at him with her odd directness. "You will come again?"
she said quickly; and turning to her father she added: "You know what
Professor Clyde asked. This gentleman cannot give him any account of the
picture without seeing it again."

Doctor Lombard glanced at her vaguely; he was still like a person in a
trance.

"Eh?" he said, rousing himself with an effort.

"I said, father, that Mr. Wyant must see the picture again if he is to
tell Professor Clyde about it," Miss Lombard repeated with extraordinary
precision of tone.

Wyant was silent. He had the puzzled sense that his wishes were being
divined and gratified for reasons with which he was in no way connected.

"Well, well," the doctor muttered, "I don't say no--I don't say no. I
know what Clyde wants--I don't refuse to help him." He turned to Wyant.
"You may come again--you may make notes," he added with a sudden effort.
"Jot down what occurs to you. I'm willing to concede that."

Wyant again caught the girl's eye, but its emphatic message perplexed
him.

"You're very good," he said tentatively, "but the fact is the picture is
so mysterious--so full of complicated detail--that I'm afraid no notes I
could make would serve Clyde's purpose as well as--as a photograph, say.
If you would allow me--"

Miss Lombard's brow darkened, and her father raised his head furiously.

"A photograph? A photograph, did you say? Good God, man, not ten people
have been allowed to set foot in that room! A PHOTOGRAPH?"

Wyant saw his mistake, but saw also that he had gone too far to retreat.

"I know, sir, from what Clyde has told me, that you object to having
any reproduction of the picture published; but he hoped you might let
me take a photograph for his personal use--not to be reproduced in his
book, but simply to give him something to work by. I should take the