“I—I don’t know what you are speaking of,” Hawke stammered, stunned and caught completely off guard.
“Oh, to the contrary, you know everything, Simon Hawke, for you are the mastermind behind this entire criminal enterprise.”
“You have no evidence.”
“I have all the evidence, and it is more than enough to assure you have a slow walk to the gallows awaiting you.”
“I shall call my barrister immediately, and he will point out you have neither the power nor authority to arrest me.”
“But I can assure you Scotland Yard does,” said Joanna and opened the carriage door farther, so Hawke could clearly see Lestrade and two of his officers approaching.
27The Masterpiece
Rather than wait until later in the morning, our excitement was so great we decided to send for Giuseppe Delvecchio and allow him the honor of unveiling Leonardo da Vinci’s masterpiece. Lestrade had earlier dispatched automobiles for the Countess of Wessex and Edwin Alan Rowe, to show his appreciation for their assistance in solving the mystery of the art vandal. As we awaited the arrival of the restorer, each of us took turns guessing what the masterpiece might be. Lestrade held no opinion, while Joanna, my father, and I stood by our prediction made late last night that da Vinci had decided to paint a greatly enlarged, perfect angel which he could take full credit for. This opinion would fit the riddle, Angels to a Perfect Angel. Rowe and the countess, however, had other ideas.
“I think it most likely is a self-portrait,” said Rowe. “All of the Great Masters, including Michelangelo and Raphael, left behind paintings of themselves.”
“But there is already a self-portrait of da Vinci in existence,” Lady Katherine argued. “I saw it myself at a museum in Turin.”
“True enough, Countess,” said Rowe. “But that portrait was drawn in red chalk and depicts da Vinci as an old man since it was done in 1512, seven years before his death. I would propose the hidden masterpiece showed da Vinci as a young man while he was still a student in del Verrocchio’s workshop.”
“But why then would he conceal it?” asked the countess.
“Modesty perhaps, as this work would have been accomplished prior to his fame,” Rowe replied. “I would suggest the portrait of the young da Vinci was painted in oil rather than chalk, which of course would make it even more valuable and more likely to last.”
“A good choice, then,” said the countess. “But I have yet another opinion. I believe it is a portrait of his mentor, Andrea del Verrocchio, with whom da Vinci was very close. Da Vinci may have felt he owed his mentor a great debt, for many believe he considered del Verrocchio a father figure.”
“But again, why hide it?” asked Rowe.
Lady Katherine shrugged. “Perhaps it was to be a gift later on, or perhaps their relationship soured. Who is to know, for we are all guessing.” The countess’s face suddenly hardened. “But I will tell you what is not a guess, and that is Simon Hawke’s role in this dastardly affair. To steal is one thing, to be involved in murder is quite another. I would have never suspected that. Never! But then again, maybe his overwhelming debts got the best of him.”
“What debts in particular, madam?” Lestrade asked at once.
“There is a long list, including a young but very expensive mistress and large gambling debts which required him to borrow at high interest rates from some rather unseemly characters. You see, his credit at the banks had already been overextended,” Lady Katherine reeled off. “Then there were the misguided purchases of various paintings, for which he greatly overpaid. His former partner, Andrew Evans, would have never done so.”
Giuseppe Delvecchio overheard the latter portion of the conversation as he approached, and confirmed the countess’s opinion. “Although he believed otherwise, Simon Hawke did not have a keen eye when it came to fine art, and for this reason he overpaid and later was forced to undersell. And I should say his integrity was not at the highest level. He did not hesitate to deal in works of questionable ownership.”
“Did he have a hand in stolen paintings?” Lestrade asked quickly.
“I did not say that.”
But all in the room knew he did, particularly Lestrade who gave the restorer a most skeptical look. At that moment I recalled Joanna once telling me that to Scotland Yard all art dealers were thought to be guilty of something.
“So I think it is fair to say that Simon Hawke was not the most honorable of purveyors,” my father concluded.
“That description is more than charitable, Dr. Watson,” Lady Katherine said, making no attempt to hide her contempt for the art dealer.
“Well, then,” Lestrade said impatiently, “let us get down to the delicate task we face. Mr. Delvecchio, please proceed.”
Delvecchio approached The Baptism of Christ by Andrea del Verrocchio with slow, deliberate steps, obviously in awe of the great mentor’s work and even more in awe of what lay behind it. “If a da Vinci rests beneath the canvas, it is very, very old and in all likelihood very fragile. So we must be most careful.”
“Perhaps it has been protected through all the years by the thick canvas that lies atop it,” Lady Katherine hoped.
“No canvas, no matter how thick, can protect for five hundred years,” Rowe said.
“We shall see.” Delvecchio reached up for the painting and ever so gently placed it facedown on a nearby padded table. Opening a leather tool kit, he extracted a small, chisel-like instrument and a pair of thin pliers, and began to disassemble the frame which held the masterpiece. Once the outer frame was removed, we could see that the stretched canvas was firmly attached to its backing. Delvecchio stepped back and took a deep breath, as if gathering himself for the momentous event that was in his hands and about to occur. With the greatest of care, he slowly pulled out each fastener until the del Verrocchio was freed
