“One more thing.” She paused. “I have left word for Nick Bassington-Hope’s friends to be in touch with me. When I speak to them, I will press them to see you as soon as possible. I trust that their willingness to assist you will result in a tempered view of their activities.”
“Dealing with me is one thing. When the villains get wind of this, those men will likely need some sort of protection.”
“I’ve thought about that. They were pressured into collaboration, Harry Bassington-Hope’s life being the bartering point. With Nick dead and Harry owing money right, left and center, both Haywood and Trayner were ready to throw in the towel.”
“The gang made sure they were in it up to their necks though, by giving them money—and, as high and mighty as their intentions were, they didn’t turn it down, did they?”
“Who would, in the current circumstances?” Maisie shook her head. “I know it’s a stumbling block, but surely if they assist you with your inquiries and help you to make arrests…”
Strattton sighed. “I’ll do what I can.” He paused, shrugging his shoulders and looking down at his hands, then brought his attention back to Maisie. “Now—how do you want me to help you?’
“I think what I have in mind will help you too.” Maisie spoke quietly. “This must be handled with the utmost care, Inspector.”
SVENSON ARRANGED FOR scaffolding to be erected at the far end of the gallery on Saturday, while, for her part, Maisie gathered the men—and one woman—who would assist her on Sunday afternoon when construction had been completed. Though the original layout plans were not available, and Maisie did not want to request assistance from Duncan Haywood and Alex Courtman, Arthur Levitt acted as foreman, instructing the men to position trestles at a certain height from the ground to facilitate correct positioning of each piece. From her inspection of Nick Bassington-Hope’s masterwork, Maisie had been able to sketch a layout for her helpers to follow, though she did not share its contents with either Svenson or Levitt.
In the meantime, per her instructions, Svenson had prepared letters bearing news that the “triptych” had been discovered and that, following work on the exhibition throughout Sunday, a preliminary viewing would take place during the following week. Formal notification of the reception would be sent shortly. The letter acknowledged the unusual nature of the invitation, which, he surmised, would no doubt be understood by all who knew Nick. The decision to have a reception for a limited, select group to honor the artist was impromptu and presented an opportunity for the gallery to pay respects to a man of uncommon depth. It was also noted that, in accordance with the known wishes of Nicholas Bassington-Hope, representatives would be invited from London’s leading museums.
At her request, Maisie was handed the letters to post. They would have been received on Saturday morning by each member of the Bassington-Hope family, though there was some discussion as to the best address to use for Harry. Envelopes were also prepared for Quentin Trayner, Duncan Haywood and Alex Courtman, and it was anticipated that when Randolph Bradley’s breakfast tray was delivered to his suite on Saturday morning, the letter would be set on top of a copy of the
Maisie and Billy spent most of Saturday assembling the people and equipment they would need to execute their part of the production. Svenson had stepped forward to cover all costs involved in setting up the exhibition on Sunday evening as well as for the exhibition itself. Billy’s brother-in-law would be working for the first time in months, and Eric had asked for and been given use of Reg Martin’s van. Sandra assisted Maisie with procurement of all manner of nails, screws, hooks and pulleys. The plans were falling into place. Sunday loomed almost too quickly.
MAISIE, BILLY, ERIC, Jim and Sandra entered the gallery as the men put final touches to the construction of wooden struts, trestles and ladders that would be used to position the pieces of Nick Bassington-Hope’s creation.
“That’s all for now, Mr. Levitt. We can manage from here.”
Levitt nodded. “You’ll need the keys.”
“Thank you.”
As soon as they heard the caretaker leave, Billy ensured the back entrance was secure and the front door was locked. Together Eric and Jim pulled screens across so that the back wall could not be seen from the street, while Maisie and Sandra covered the floor with heavy cotton dust-sheets of the type used by housepainters.
“Ready for us to unload the van, Miss?”
“Ready, Billy.”
Maisie and Sandra opened a box they had brought in with them and took out tools they would need for the next part of the plan. The men returned with six panels, which they laid on top of the dust-sheets, before returning to the van for more equipment. In the meantime, the women set to work, each taking care to don a pair of overalls and cover her hair with a top-knotted scarf before commencing.
Some three hours later, Maisie checked her watch and caught Billy’s eye.
“Time to let Stratton in, Miss?”
“Yes, it’s time. Then you go up to the landing.”
“You’ll be all right?”
“Of course.”
As Maisie took up her place behind a screen, she felt a churning in her stomach. There was always the chance that she would be wrong. She swallowed. Yes, this was her gamble.
AT HALF PAST nine, according to Maisie’s watch, illuminated for just a second with her torch, she heard the rumble of a motor car in the alley, followed by the sound of a latch at the back of the gallery being rattled. Any sense of movement was suspended as she raised her head to listen. Deliberate steps echoed, as if the person entering the gallery were carrying a heavy load. Soon there was a distinct creaking noise as the door leading into the gallery was opened, and the steps came ever closer. Then a pause. The intruder’s breath came heavy and fast. There was a whine, a mournful aching sound that came from someone clearly struggling with a burdensome weight.
There was a deep sigh and a metallic sound echoed into the air. And something else, a distinct smell. Maisie almost choked.
