you have no doubt gathered if you’ve been making inquiries, had announced that the piece would not be put up for sale, would not be offered to Bradley first, as it should have been, by rights. No, out of the blue, Nick declared that the piece would be given to the war museum in Lambeth, and if they weren’t interested, then the Tate or some other such national institution. His decision presented something of an anathema to Bradley, and their words were fierce and heated.”

He had been rubbing his hands together as he spoke, but now he looked up at Maisie, then Billy. “I returned with the express purpose of cooling the eruption, so to speak. It was crucial that the two men remained able to do business, that there was respect on both sides, each for the other. If Nick wanted to make a gift of the piece, all well and good, but I was intent that we should take the appropriate steps toward reconciliation, perhaps by allowing Bradley to purchase the piece, then place it with the museum for permanent exhibition, a bequest in his name. I have brokered such arrangements in the past.”

“And Nick didn’t accept your proposal?”

“Dismissed it immediately. Of course, the budding liaison between Georgie and Bradley did not help matters. Nick was furious with her.”

“Did you enter by the front or back door?”

“I entered by the front.”

“Did you lock the door upon leaving?”

“I…I…” Svenson frowned and fell silent.

“Mr. Svenson, do you remember locking the door?”

He shook his head. “That I do not recall turning the key in the lock does not indicate that I didn’t actually secure the door. It is something I do all the time, it is a habit.” A hint of his Scandinavian accent was revealed as he spoke, indicating to Maisie that he was less than sure of his facts.

Maisie pressed on. “Did you see anyone lingering outside, as you departed the gallery?”

Svenson closed his eyes, his words deliberate, as if trying to remember the details. “I closed the door…raised my umbrella to summon a taxi-cab that had just turned into the street. It was a fortuitous arrival and—”

“Mr. Svenson?”

“Oh, dear. Oh, no!”

“What is it?”

“I rushed to the taxi-cab! It had started to rain again. I didn’t take a second glance at the passenger alighting on the other side of the motor car. I remember thinking that I was glad he or she had stepped via the left-hand door so I could just dive in and be on my way, and—I have now recalled—oh, my dear…. I may not have locked the door. The taxi-cab’s arrival just when I needed it distracted me, made me hurry, I—”

Maisie placed a hand on Svenson’s forearm. “Don’t worry, Mr. Svenson. If someone wanted access to the gallery, they would have found it whether the door was open or not. It’s just another piece of information to help me in my work.”

“But, do you think Nick was murdered?”

Maisie and Billy exchanged glances again. As Maisie questioned Svenson, Billy had been taking notes. Now it was time to move on to the second reason for their visit.

“Mr. Svenson, I’m also here with some news, news that, for the meantime, we must keep between just we three. In addition, I have a proposal for you, and I need your help.”

Svenson shrugged. “My help? How?”

“I know where the masterwork is, and I want to exhibit here, at your gallery. I—”

“You know where the triptych is?”

“It’s not a triptych. And yes, I know where it is. Let me finish, Mr. Svenson. I want informal invitations sent to a select group of people—Nick’s friends from Dungeness, his family, Mr. Bradley, perhaps a representative from each of the museums. I am sure you will have an opportunity for an open exhibition later, perhaps to show other works found by Georgie and Nolly following Nick’s death—to my untrained eye, it would appear that even his sketchbooks would draw good money—though that would have to be with permission granted by the family and by his sisters, as executors.”

“Oh, my God, my God, we must make arrangements. I must see the work, I must!”

Maisie shook her head. “No, Mr. Svenson. I have to make a request I hope very much that you will grant, for it is crucial to my work, and to the purpose of this special exhibition.”

“What do you mean?”

“Not only do I require you to keep the arrangements confidential, only releasing information in the manner I stipulate, but I will need to have private access to the gallery. I want only men of my choosing to assist with mounting the pieces. There will be a timetable to follow, a specific period during which—to all intents and purposes—the gallery will appear to be unattended. I cannot emphasize enough that my instructions must be followed to the letter.”

“What about Georgie? Will she be told?”

“I will see her this afternoon. As my client she must be kept apprised of my progress, but she also understands that in my work I cannot be expected to account for or inform her of every decision, if I am to be successful.”

“You ask much of me, Miss Dobbs.”

“I know. But you, in turn, asked much of Nick, and though he could be fractious at times, your reputation has increased a thousandfold as a result of that relationship. I think you owe him this, don’t you?”

The man was silent for a few moments, then regarded Maisie again. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do.”

GEORGINA BASSINGTON-HOPE WAS, fortuitously, at home when Maisie arrived. When informed by the housekeeper that Miss Dobbs was waiting in the drawing room, Georgina emerged from her study

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