ously arranged
something cold for Sir Jee in the dining-room, and instructed Callear
about boiling the water for Sir Jee's tea on Christmas morning. Callear
was the under-coachman and a useful odd man. He it was who would drive
Sir Jee to the station on Christmas morning, and then guard the castle
and the stables thereof during the absence of the family and the other
servants. Callear slept over the stables.

And after Sir Jee had consumed his cold repast in the dining-room the
other servants went, and Sir Jee was alone in the castle, facing the
portrait.

He had managed the affair fairly well, he thought. Indeed, he had a
talent for chicane, and none knew it better than himself. It would have
been dangerous if the servants had been left in the castle. They might
have suffered from insomnia, and heard William Smith, and interfered
with the operations of William Smith. On the other hand, Sir Jee had no
intention whatever of leaving the castle uninhabited to the mercies of
William Smith. He felt that he himself must be on the spot to see that
everything went right and that nothing went wrong. Thus, the
previously-arranged scheme for the servants' holiday fitted perfectly
into his plans, and all that he had had to do was to refuse to leave
the castle till the morrow. It was ideal.

Nevertheless, he was a little afraid of what he had done, and of what
he was going to permit William Smith to do. It was certainly
dangerous--certainly rather a wild scheme. However, the die was cast.
And within twelve hours he would be relieved of the intolerable incubus
of the portrait.

And when he thought of the humiliations which that portrait had caused
him; when he remembered the remarks of his sons concerning it,
especially John's remarks; when he recalled phrases about it in London
newspapers, he squirmed, and told himself that no scheme for getting
rid of it could be too wild and perilous. And, after all, the burglary
dodge was the only dodge, absolutely the only conceivable practical
method of disposing of the portrait--except burning down the castle.
And surely it was preferable to a conflagration, to arson! Moreover, in
case of fire at the castle some blundering fool would be sure to cry;
'The portrait! The portrait must be saved!' And the portrait would be
saved.

He gazed at the repulsive, hateful thing. In the centre of the lower
part of the massive gold frame was the legend: 'Presented to Sir
Jehoshaphat Dain, Knight, as