After the first passionate outburst of scorn Lord Littimer looked at his visitor quietly. There was something almost amusing in the idea that Bell should attempt such a trick upon him. And the listener was thoroughly enjoying the scene now. There was quite an element of the farcical about it. In the brilliant light she could see Littimer's dark, bitter face and the helpless amazement on the strong features of Hatherly Bell. And, meanwhile, the man who had brought the impossible situation about was calmly sleeping after his strenuous exertions.

Chris smiled to herself as she thought out her brilliant coup. It looked to her nothing less than a stroke of genius, two strokes, in fact, as will be seen presently. Before many hours were over Henson's position in the house would be seriously weakened. He had done a clever thing, but Chris saw her way to a cleverer one still.

Meanwhile the two men were regarding one another suspiciously. On a round
Chippendale table the offending Rembrandt lay between them.

"I confess," Bell said, at length, "I confess that I am utterly taken by surprise. And yet I need not be so astonished when I come to think of the amazing cunning and audacity of my antagonist. He has more foresight than myself. Lord Littimer, will you be so kind as to repeat your last observation over again?"

"I will emphasize it, if you like?" Littimer replied. "For some deep purpose of your own, you desired to make friends with me again. You tell me you are in a position to clear your character. Very foolishly I consent to see you. You come here with a roll of paper in your possession purporting to be a second copy of my famous print. All the time you knew it to be mine—mine, stolen an hour or two ago and passed instantly to you. Could audacity go farther? And then you ask me to believe that you came down from town with a second engraving in your possession."

"As I hope to be saved, I swear it!" Bell cried.

"Of course you do. A man with your temerity would swear anything. Credulous as I may be, I am not credulous enough to believe that my picture would be stolen again at the very time that you found yours."

"Abstracted by my enemy on purpose to land me in this mess."

"Ridiculous," Littimer cried. "Pshaw, I am a fool to stand here arguing; I am a fool to let you stay in the house. Why, I don't believe you could bring a solitary witness to prove that yonder picture was yours."

"You are mistaken, my lord. I could bring several."

"Credible witnesses? Witnesses whose characters would bear investigation?"

"I fancy so," Bell said, quietly. "Two nights ago, for instance, I showed the very picture lying before you to a lady of your acquaintance, Miss Enid Henson. I couldn't have had your picture two nights ago, could I? And Miss Henson was graciously pleased to observe that I had been made the victim of a vile conspiracy."

"Why do you insult me by mentioning that name?" Littimer said, hoarsely. His face was very pale, and sombre anger smouldered in his eyes. "Tell me you showed the thing to my wife next."

"I did," said Bell, coolly. "Lady Littimer was in the room at the time."

Something like a groan escaped from Littimer's pallid lips. The smouldering light in his eyes flashed into flame. He advanced upon Bell with a quivering, uplifted arm. Chris slipped swiftly out of the shade and stood between the two men.

"Dr. Bell speaks the truth," she said. "And I am going to prove it."

Littimer dropped into a chair and gave way to silent laughter. His mood had changed utterly. He lounged there, a cynical, amused man of the world again.

"Upon my word, I am vastly obliged to you for your comedy," he said. "I hope your salary as leading lady in Bell's company is a handsome one, Miss Lee."

"Let us hope that it is more handsome than your manners, my lord," Chris said, tartly. "I beg to remark that I have never seen Dr. Bell before. Oh, yes, I have been listening to your conversation, because I expected something of the kind. The Rembrandt was stolen some time before Dr. Bell arrived here, and in due course I shall show you the thief. Lord Littimer, I implore you to be silent and discreet in this matter. Have a little patience. Quite by accident I have made an important discovery, but this is hardly the place to discuss it. Before daylight I hope to be able to prove beyond question that you have greatly wronged Dr. Bell."

"I shall be glad to be convinced of it," Littimer said, sincerely. "But why this secrecy?"

"Secrecy is absolutely necessary for the conviction of the thief."

Bell looked eagerly at the speaker.

"I have not the remotest notion who this young lady is," he said, "but I am greatly obliged to her."

"My secretary, Miss Lee," Littimer murmured; "an American from Boston, and evidently a great deal cleverer than I gave her credit for, which is saying a great deal. Miss Lee, if you know anything, I implore you to speak."

"Not here," Chris said, firmly. "Stone walls have ears. I tell you the Rembrandt was stolen just before Dr. Bell reached the house. Also I tell you it is imperative that nobody but ourselves must know the fact for the present. You trust me, Lord Littimer?"

"I trust you as implicitly as I do anybody."

Chris smiled at the diplomatic response. She approached the panel of the wall on which the Rembrandt had been fastened. She indicated the long steel stays which had been clamped on to the iron frame. "Look at them," she said. "It was my suggestion that the stays should be attached to the frame to prevent anything like this robbery. I made the stays secure myself. And what happened to justify my prudence? Why, the very same night somebody came here after the picture."

"Henson!" Littimer cried. "Ah! But he could have come openly."

"It is not in the nature of the man to do things openly," Chris went on. "I know more about the man than you imagine, but that you are to keep to yourself. He comes here in the dead of the night and he gets into the house through an upstair window. A man of his bulk, if you please! And he comes here hot-foot and breathless at a time when common prudence should have kept him in bed. Why? Because he knows that Dr. Bell has the other Rembrandt and will come to prove it, and because he knows that if he can steal the Littimer Rembrandt he can precipitate the very impasse that he has brought about. But he could not steal the picture because it was fast."

"You are a very clever young lady," Littimer said, drily. "You will tell me next that you expected Henson to try this thing on."

"I did," Chris said, coolly. "I had a telegram to warn me so."

Littimer smiled. All this mystery and cleverness was after his own heart. He lighted his cigarette and tendered his case in the friendliest possible manner to Bell.

"Go on," he said, "I am deeply interested."

"I prefer not to go into details," Chris resumed. "All I ask you to do is to be entirely guided by me when you have heard my story. I have admitted to you that I knew when Henson was coming, and why am I interested? Because it happens that Reginald Henson has greatly injured someone I cared for deeply. Well, I fastened up the picture—he came. He sneaked in like the thief that he was because his accomplice and tool had failed to save him the trouble. Lord Littimer, I will not pain you by saying who Henson's accomplice was."

Littimer nodded gloomily.

"Not that I blame that accomplice; he could not help himself. Ah, when the whole truth comes to be told, what a black business it will be. Well, Henson came to steal the picture and I caught him in the act. If you had seen his fat, greasy, crestfallen face! Then he pretended that it was all done for a jest and as a warning to Lord Littimer. And Lord Littimer, the most cynical of men, allowed it to pass."

"I couldn't see what he had to gain," Littimer pleaded. "I don't now, as a matter of fact."

"Neither will you for the present," said Chris. "Still, you will be so good as to assume the same hospitality and courtesy towards Henson as you extend at present."

"I daresay I can manage it," said Littimer, cynically. "I used to be a society man once."

"Henson did not deceive me for a moment," Chris went on. "He was bound to have the picture, and, being baffled one way, he tried another. Look here, Lord Littimer. Let me assume for a moment that Dr. Bell came down here to steal your picture, get rid of the frame, and palm off your own engraving for another. Now, in the name of common sense, let me ask you a single question. Could Dr. Bell have possibly known that the frame of the Rembrandt was securely fastened to the wall and that I had attached it quite recently? And could he in the short time at his disposal have procured the necessary tools to cut away the stays? Again, Dr. Bell can prove, I suppose, exactly what time he left London to-day. No, we must look farther for the thief."

"There is something else also we have to look for," said Dr. Bell. "And that is the frame. You say it was of iron and consequently heavy. The thief would discard the frame and roll up the print."

"That is a brilliant suggestion," said Chris, eagerly. "And if we only had the frame I could set Lord Littimer's doubts to rest entirely. I happen to know that the real thief came and went by the cliff under the terrace. If the frame was thrown into the gorse, there it—"

"Might stay for ages," Littimer exclaimed. "By Jove, I'm just in the mood to carry this business a stage or two farther before I go to bed. Bell, there are two or three cycle lamps in the gun-room. You used to be a pretty fearless climber. What do you say to a hunt round for an hour or two whilst the house is quiet?"

Bell assented eagerly. Chris waited with what patience she could command till daylight began to show faintly and redly in the east. Then she heard the sound of voices outside, and Littimer and Bell staggered in carrying the frame between them.

"Got it," Littimer exclaimed, with the triumphant exultation of a schoolboy who has successfully looted a rare bird's-nest. "We found it half-way down the cliff, hidden behind a patch of samphire. And it doesn't seem to be any the worse for the adventure. Now, Miss Wiseacre, seeing that we have the frame, perhaps you will fulfil your promise of convincing me, once and for all, that yonder Rembrandt cannot possibly belong to me."

"I am going to do so," Chris said, quietly. "You told me you had to cut the margin of your print by an inch or so round to fit that quaint old frame. So far as I can see, the print before you is quite intact. Now, if it is too large for the frame—"

Littimer nodded eagerly. Bell fitted the dingy paper to the back of the frame and smiled. There was an inch or more to spare all round. Nobody spoke for a moment.

"You could make it smaller, but you couldn't make it bigger," Littimer said. "Bell, when I have sufficiently recovered I'll make a humble and abject apology to you. And now, wise woman from the West, what is the next act in the play?"