We both
recalled those words, and laid our plans deep to prevent the man's
wriggling away from us on this third occasion.
"I tell you what it is, Sey," my brother-in-law said, with
impressive slowness. "This time we must deliberately lay ourselves
out to be swindled. We must propose of our own accord to buy the
picture, making him guarantee it in 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.
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