“If we had its history, Mussewer, I should want at least twice the
money. Even as it is I am taking a big chance. You know that as well as
I do.”
This seemed to be true. At all events, M. Duponnet and Mr. Thornton
again talked earnestly together. Once more they fingered that rather
dilapidated canvas. Head to head they bent over it yet again; and then
suddenly M. Duponnet looked up and came abruptly across to the old man.
“Meester Gedge,” he said, “I can’t go beyond four t’ousand pounds. That
is my limit!”
“Five, Mussewer Duponny, that is mine,” said Uncle Si, with a dark
smile.
It was a jejune thing for a French gentleman to do, but at this point
M. Duponnet really and truly gave his shoulders a shrug, and advanced
three paces towards the shop door. Uncle Si did not stir a muscle. And
then M. Duponnet faced about and said: “Guineas, Meester Gedge, I’ll
give four t’ousand guineas, and that’s my last word.”
Uncle Si having no pretensions to be considered a French gentleman, did
not hesitate to give his own shoulders a shrug. It was his turn then
to confer with the discreet and knowledgeable Mr. Thornton, who it was
clear was acting the difficult part of a go-between.
June heard that gentleman say in an audible whisper: “A fair price, Mr.
Gedge, for the thing as it stands. It hasn’t a pedigree, and to me that
signature looks a bit doubtful. In the market it may fetch more or it
may fetch less, but at the same time four thousand guineas is a fine
insurance.”
Finished dissembler as Uncle Si was, even he did not seek to deny the
truth of this. There could be no gainsaying that four thousand guineas
_was_ a fine insurance. True, if the picture proved to be a
veritable Van Roon it might fetch many times that sum. In that shrewd
mind, no bigger miracle was needed for the thing to turn out a _chef
d’œuvre_ than that it should prove to be worth the sum offered by
M. Duponnet. Either contingency seemed too good to be true. Besides, S.
Gedge Antiques belonged to a conservative school, among whose articles
of faith was a certain trite proverb about a bird in the hand.
It went to the old man’s heart to accept four thousand guineas for
a work that might be worth so very much more. June could hear him
breathing heavily. In her tense ear that sound dominated even the
furious beating of her own heart. A kind of dizziness came over her, as
only too surely she understood that the wicked old man was giving in.
Before her very eyes he was going to surrender her own private property
for a fabulous sum.
“Four t’ousand guineas, Meester Gedge,” said M. Duponnet, with quite an
air of nonchalance. But he knew well enough that the old man was about
to “fall.”
“It’s giving it away, Mussewer,” whined Uncle Si. “It’s giving it away.”
“Zat I don’t t’ink, Meester Gedge,” said the French gentleman, quietly
unbuttoning his coat and taking a fountain pen and a cheque book from
an inner pocket. “It’s a risque--a big risque. It may not be Van Roon
at all--and zen where are we?”
“You know as well as I do that it’s a Van Roon,” Uncle Si verged almost
upon tears.
“Very well, Meester Gedge, if you prefer ze big chance.” And cheque
book in hand the French gentleman paused.
June was torn. And she could tell by the strange whine in the rasping
voice that the Old Crocodile was also torn.
At this moment of crisis, Mr. Thornton interposed with masterful
effect. “In my humble opinion,” he said, “it’s a very fair offer for
the thing as it stands.”
“You are thinking of your ten per cent. commission, my boy,” said S.
Gedge Antiques with a gleam of malice.
“Well, Meester Gedge,” said M. Duponnet, “take it or leave it.” And the
French gentleman began to fold up his cheque book.
With a groan to rend a heart of stone, S. Gedge Antiques brought
himself suddenly to accept the offer. Half suffocated by excitement,
June watched M. Duponnet cross to the desk and proceed to write out a
cheque for four thousand guineas. And as she did so her heart sank. She
was quite sure that she was looking upon the picture for the last time.
In jumping to this conclusion, however, she had not made full allowance
for the business capacity of Uncle Si. When M. Duponnet had filled in
the cheque and handed it to him, the Old Crocodile scrutinised it very
carefully indeed, and then he said: “Thank you, Mussewer Duponny. The
bank closes at three. But to-morrow morning I’ll take this round myself
as soon as it opens. And if the manager says it’s all right, you can
have the picture whenever you like.”
“_Bien!_” The Frenchman bowed politely. “Meanwhile, take good care
of the picture. There are many thieves about.” M. Duponnet laughed.
“Mind you lock it up in a safe place.”
“You can trust Mr. Gedge to do that, I think,” said Louis Quinze-legs
dryly.
“I hope so, I’m sure,” said the old man with a frosty smile.
“_Soit!_” M. Duponnet smiled too. “I’ll call for it myself
to-morrow morning at twelve.”
“Thank you, Mussewer!”
S. Gedge Antiques gave his visitors a bow as they went up to the shop
door, and ushered them ceremoniously into the not particularly inviting
air of New Cross Street.