"Got it," Littimer exclaimed, with the triumphant exultation of a
schoolboy who has successfully looted a rare bird's-nest. "We found it
half-way down the cliff, hidden behind a patch of samphire. And it
doesn't seem to be any the worse for the adventure. Now, Miss Wiseacre,
seeing that we have the frame, perhaps you will fulfil your promise of
convincing me, once and for all, that yonder Rembrandt cannot possibly
belong to me."
"I am going to do so," Chris said, quietly. "You told me you had to cut
the margin of your print by an inch or so round to fit that quaint old
frame. So far as I can see, the print before you is quite intact. Now, if
it is too large for the frame--"
Littimer nodded eagerly. Bell fitted the dingy paper to the back of the
frame and smiled. There was an inch or more to spare all round. Nobody
spoke for a moment.
"You could make it smaller, but you couldn't make it bigger," Littimer
said. "Bell, when I have sufficiently recovered I'll make a humble and
abject apology to you. And now, wise woman from the West, what is the
next act in the play?"
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE PUZZLING OF HENSON
Chris smiled with the air of one who is perfectly satisfied with her
work.
Pages:
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324