“A fortune,” I breathed.
“Enough to buy half of Kensington,” my father added. “What could be worth that incredible sum?”
Joanna must have had the same thought, for she asked the consultant, “Were you able to attach a name to the masterpiece?”
“Not as yet, but the price alone tells us it has to be a painting done by one of the Great Masters,” Rowe replied. “Only a Michelangelo or da Vinci or Raphael or perhaps a Rembrandt would give rise to such an enormous offer.”
“Which of those would you favor?” asked Joanna.
“The masters of the High Renaissance,” Rowe answered without hesitation. “Either Michelangelo or da Vinci or Raphael.”
“In that order?”
“In any order, but please keep in mind that the vast majority of Michelangelo’s paintings were stunning frescos such as those on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, which obviously cannot be concealed under a canvas. There are very few of his works on canvas, and I can assure you all are accounted for.”
“So we can exclude Michelangelo?” Joanna asked.
“Not necessarily, for it is possible someone discovered a painting by the Great Master in some long-ago deserted church,” Rowe replied. “Just imagine if it was a portrait of his statue David, which the world acknowledges as one of the most magnificent works of art ever produced. Its value would be far beyond priceless.”
Joanna nodded slowly. “I have heard the statue of David described as imposing perfection.”
“And justly so,” Rowe said, nodding back. “But there is a problem with this scenario, for such a find would have no proven provenance and would not require sale on the black market.”
“Thus, the prospect that the hidden masterpiece is the work of Michelangelo seems unlikely, but nevertheless possible,” Joanna concluded.
“That would be my opinion,” Rowe went on. “And the same would hold true for Leonardo da Vinci. Although his paintings on canvas outnumber Michelangelo’s, they are all accounted for. And if by chance any of da Vinci’s famous works such as The Last Supper or Mona Lisa or Salvator Mundi were to go missing, the cry of theft would be heard around the world, yet not a whisper has been uttered.”
“Which leaves us with Raphael,” said Joanna.
“But there are problems here as well, for only Raphael’s most exquisite and adored works would attract this extraordinary sum of money. These include Transfiguration, The Sistine Madonna, and The Triumph of Galatea, all of which remain securely in place.”
“So I take it you cannot narrow down the artist most likely to be responsible for the hidden masterpiece.”
“Not with any degree of certainty.”
Joanna gently tapped a finger against her chin before asking, “Who in all England would own the majority of works by these three Great Masters?”
“The Royal Art Collection at Windsor, with the National Gallery being a somewhat distant second.”
“What if I included Caravaggio and Titian?”
Rowe shook his head vigorously. “Do not include them, for they would never attract that kind of money.”
Joanna pondered the problem at length before she went over to the Persian slipper and extracted a Turkish cigarette which she carefully lighted. Then she began to pace the floor of our parlor, leaving a trail of dense cigarette smoke behind her. She ignored the rap on the door as well as Miss Hudson who entered with our tea setting and, having put it in place on our breakfast table, departed quietly. Joanna continued pacing and thinking.
“This can go on for a while,” my father predicted.
“I am in no hurry,” said Rowe.
“But I am, for our vandal will undoubtedly soon strike again and, if successful, he and the masterpiece will disappear and never be seen again,” Joanna told our visitor. “But if we are to track and stop him, there is more information I require. First, I am assuming all works by these Great Masters are over three hundred years old.”
“Correct,” Rowe affirmed.
“And their masterpieces well known.”
“Through the centuries.”
“Then we can assume the hidden masterpiece was stolen.”
“That is a certainty, for why else would they go to such far ends to conceal it, and why else would they have to place it for sale on the black market?”
“But if such a masterpiece was stolen from a museum or prominent collection, would not the art world know of it?” Joanna asked.
“We would indeed and be on a sharp lookout for it,” Rowe replied.
“Yet there has not been a peep regarding a theft of this magnitude,” Joanna pressed. “How could this be?”
“I can give you a number of reasons how a masterpiece can be stolen and not reported,” Rowe expounded, then provided a prime example. “A few years back a wealthy royal was suffering from dementia and confined to her mansion, wherein hung some of the world’s very best art. Her family rarely visited and simply waited for her to die so they could inherit the estate. While on her deathbed, a servant made off with a masterpiece by Vermeer which shortly appeared on the black market. Somehow a family member got wind of it and, knowing its rightful owner, reported the theft to Scotland Yard. The painting was recovered and returned to the family. Had a family member not had such a keen eye, the theft would have in all likelihood gone unnoticed. It would have slipped between the cracks, so to speak.”
“Do you believe that is what happened in our case?”
“Yes, for there is no other explanation.”
“Assuming you are correct, which of these would be the most likely origin of the painting?” Joanna asked. “A museum or an impressive private collection?”
“Either,” Rowe replied at once. “Most of their works, even the masterpieces, are not always on display. Many of them are kept in storage under carefully controlled conditions. One could be stolen from among the many and it would require months to discover it was missing.”
“How many paintings might be in storage at all the institutions you mentioned?”
“Thousands,
