Chris regarded Bell
with a brilliant smile on her face.
"Confess," she said, "confess that you are consumed with curiosity."
"It would be just as well to acknowledge it at once," Bell admitted. "In
the happy old days your sister Enid always said that you were the clever
and audacious one of the family. She said you would do or dare anything."
"I used to imagine so," Chris said, more quietly. "But the life of the
last few years tried one's nerves terribly. Still, the change has done me
a deal of good--the change and the knowledge that Reginald Henson regards
me as dead. But you want to know how I am going to get the Rembrandt?"
"That is what is consuming me at present," Bell said.
"Well, we are going to see the man who has it," Chris explained, coolly.
"I have his address in Moreton Wells at the present moment, and for the
rest he is called the Rev. James Merritt. Between ourselves he is no more
a reverend than you are."
"And if the gentleman is shy or refuses to see us?"
"Then he will be arrested on a charge of theft."
"My dear young lady, before you can get a warrant for that kind of thing
you have to prove the theft, you have to swear an information to the
effect that you believe the property is in the possession of the thief,
and that is not easy.
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