"How the dickens can I work?" David exclaimed, irritably. "Not that I
haven't been trying. I might just as well take a long holiday till this
mystery is cleared up for all the good I am. What is the next move?"
"My next move is to go to Littimer and convince him that he has done me a
great wrong. I am bound to have Littimer's ear once more."
"You are going to show him the spare Rembrandt, eh?"
"That's it. I flatter myself I shall astonish him. I've sent a telegram
to say I'm coming to-day, after which I shall proceed to storm the
citadel. I feel all the safer because nobody knows I have the engraving."
"My dear chap, somebody knows you have the picture."
"Impossible!" Bell exclaimed. "Only yourself and Enid Henson can possibly
be aware that--"
"All the same, I am speaking the truth," David said. "Last night when you
went into the hospital you gave me the print to take care of. At the same
time I noticed a rough-looking man presumedly asleep on the seat in the
road facing the hospital. Afterwards when I looked round he had
disappeared. At the time I thought nothing of it. When I came in here I
placed the precious roll of paper on my writing-table under the window
yonder.
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