"
"He introduced your name," I said, "and the moment he found out who
I was he plunged into talk with me."
"Yes," Charles continued. "He may have learned about the portrait
of Maria Vanrenen, which my grandmother always said was preserved
at Gouda; and, indeed, I myself have often mentioned it, as you
doubtless remember. If so, what more natural, say, for a rogue than
to begin talking about the portrait in that innocent way to Amelia?
If he wants a Rembrandt, I believe they can be turned out to order
to any amount in Birmingham. The moral of all which is, it behoves
us to be careful."
"Right you are," I answered; "and I am keeping my eye upon him."
We drove back by another road, overshadowed by beech-trees in
autumnal gold. It was a delightful excursion. Dr. Polperro's heart
was elated by lunch and the excellent dry Monopole. He talked
amazingly. I never heard a man with a greater or more varied flow
of anecdote. He had been everywhere and knew all about everybody.
Amelia booked him at once for her "At Home" on Wednesday week,
and he promised to introduce her to several artistic and literary
celebrities.
That evening, however, about half-past seven, Charles and I strolled
out together on the King's Road for a blow before dinner. We dine at
eight.
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