n writing as a genuine Rembrandt,
and taking care to tie him down by most stringent conditions. But
we must seem at the same time to be unsuspicious and innocent as
babes; we must swallow whole whatever lies he tells us; pay his
price--nominally--by cheque for the portrait; and then, arrest him
the moment the bargain is complete, with the proofs of his guilt
then and there upon him. Of course, what he'll try to do will be to
vanish into thin air at once, as he did at Nice and Paris; but, this
time, we'll have the police in waiting and everything ready. We'll
avoid precipitancy, but we'll avoid delay too. We must hold our
hands off till he's actually accepted and pocketed the money; and
then, we must nab him instantly, and walk him off to the local Bow
Street. That's my plan of campaign. Meanwhile, we should appear
all trustful innocence and confiding guilelessness."

In pursuance of this well-laid scheme, we called next day on Dr.
Polperro at his hotel, and were introduced to his wife, a dainty
little woman, in whom we affected not to recognise that arch Madame
Picardet or that simple White Heather. The Doctor talked charmingly
(as usual) about art--what a well-informed rascal he was, to be
sure!--and Sir Charles expressed some interest in the supposed
Rembrandt. Our new friend was delighted; we could see by his
well-suppressed eagerness of tone that he knew us at once for
probable purchasers. He would run up to town next day, he said, and
bring down the portrait. And in effect, when Charles and I took our
wonted places in the Pullman next morning, on our way up to the
half-yearly meeting of Cloetedorp Golcondas, there was our Doctor,
leaning back in his arm-chair as if the car belonged to him. Charles
gave me an expressive look. "Does it in style," he whispered,
"doesn't he? Takes it out of my five thousand; or discounts the
amount he means to chouse me of with his spurious Rembrandt."

Arrived in town, we went to work at once. We set a private detective
from Marvillier's to watch our friend; and from him we learned that
the so-called Doctor dropped in for a picture that day at a dealer's
in the West-end (I suppress the name, having a judicious fear of
the law of libel ever before my eyes), a dealer who was known to be
mixed up before then in several shady or disreputable transactions.
Though, to be sure, my experience has been that picture dealers
are--picture dealers. Horses rank first in my mind as begetters and