V
JUNE suddenly remembered that she must go and lay the supper.
William modestly asked to be allowed to help.
“Can you lay supper?” Polite the tone, but June was inclined to think that here was the limit to William’s cleverness.
“Oh, yes, Miss June, I lay it nearly always. It’s part of my work.”
“Glad of your help, of course.” The tone was gracious. “But I daresay you’d like to go on looking for a windmill.”
“Yes, I think perhaps I would.” It was not quite the answer of diplomacy, but behind it was a weight of sincerity that took away the sting.
“Thought so,” said June, with a dark smile. It would have been pleasant to have had the help of this accomplished young man, but above all things she was practical and so understood that the time of such a one must be of great value.
“But I’m thinking you’ll have to look some while for that windmill,” she said, trying not to be satirical.
“The windmill I’ll not swear to, but I’m sure there’s water and trees; although, of course, it may take some time to find them.” William took up a piece of cotton wool. “But we’ll see.”
He moistened the wool with a solvent, which he kept in a bottle, a mysterious compound of vegetable oils and mineral water; and then, not too hard, he began to rub the surface of the picture.
“I hope we shall,” said June, doubtfully. And she went downstairs with an air of scepticism she was unable to hide.
Supper, in the main, was an affair of bread and cheese and a jug of beer, drawn from the barrel in the larder. It was not taken until a quarter past nine when S. Gedge Antiques had returned from Clerkenwell. The old man was in quite a good humour; in fact, it might be said, to verge upon the expansive. He had managed to buy the Queen Anne sofa for four pounds.
“You’ve got a bargain, sir,” said William. It was William who had discovered the sofa, and had strongly advised its purchase.
“That remains to be seen,” said his master, who would have been vastly disappointed had there been reason to think that he had not got a bargain.
After supper, when the old man had put on his slippers and an ancient smoking cap that made him look like a Turkish pasha, he took from the chimneypiece a pipe and a jar of tobacco, drew the easy chair to the fire, and began to read the evening paper.
“By the way, boy,” he remarked, quizzingly, “have you started yet on that marvellous thing you were clever enough to buy at Ipswich?”
“Crowdham Market, sir.”
“Crowdham Market, was it? Well, my father used to say that fools and money soon part company.”
June, who was clearing the table, could not forbear from darting at the young man a gleam of triumph. It was clear that Uncle Si believed no more in the windmill, not to mention the trees and the water than did she.
A start had been made, but William confessed to a fear that it might be a long job to get it clean.
“And when you get it clean,” said his master, “what do you expect to find, eh?—that’s if you’re lucky enough to find anything.”
“I don’t quite know,” said William frankly.
“Neither do I,” S. Gedge Antiques scratched a cheek of rather humorous cynicism. And then in sheer expansion of mood, he went to the length of winking at his niece. “Perhaps, boy,” he said, “you’ll find that Van Roon that was cut out of its frame at the Louvre in the Nineties, and has never been seen or heard of since.”
“Was there one, sir?” asked William, interested and alert.
The old man took up the evening paper, and began to read. “Canvas sixteen inches by twelve—just about your size, eh? One of the world’s masterpieces. Large reward for recovery been on offer for more than twenty-five years by French Government—but not claimed yet seemingly. Said to be finest Van Roon in existence. Now’s your chance, boy.” A second time S. Gedge Antiques winked at his niece; and then folding back the page of the Evening News, he handed it to William, with the air of a very sly dog indeed. “See for yourself. Special article. Mystery of Famous Missing Picture. When you find the signature of Mynheer Van Roon in the corner of this masterpiece of yours, I shouldn’t wonder if you’re able to set up in business for yourself.”
Allowing Fancy a loose rein in this benign hour, the old man, for the third time honoured his niece with a solemn wink.