«John,» he said, «would you please tilt it up for me.»
I tilted it up on the table and he walked back a ways and had a long look at it from several angles and then came back and examined it with the glass again.
Finally he straightened up again and nodded to Chet.
«Thanks very much,» he said. «If I were you, I’d guard that canvas very carefully.»
Chet was dying to know what Cal might think, but I didn’t give him a chance to ask. I doubt Cal would have told him anything even if he’d asked.
I hustled Cal out of there and got him in the car and we sat there for a moment without either of us saying anything at all.
Then Cal said, «Unless my critical faculties and my knowledge of art have deserted me entirely, that canvas in there is Toulouse-Lautrec’s Quadrille at the Moulin Rouge.»
So it wasn’t Rembrandt! I’d known damn well it wasn’t. So much for Amos Stevens!
«I’d stake my life on it,» said Cal. «I can’t be mistaken. No one could copy the canvas as faithfully as that. There is only one thing wrong.»
«What is that?» I asked.
«Quadrille at the Moulin Rouge is in Washington at the National Gallery of Art.»
I experienced a sinking feeling in my gizzard. If George somehow had managed to rifle the National Gallery both of us were sunk.
«It’s possible the painting is missing,» said Cal, «and the National Gallery people are keeping quiet about it for a day or two. Although ordinarily, they’d notify other large museums and some of the dealers.»
He shook his head, perplexed. «But why anyone should steal it is more than I would know. There’s always the possibility that it could be sold to some collector who would keep it hidden. But that would require prior negotiations, and few collectors would be so insane as to buy a painting as famous as the Moulin Rouge.»
I took some hope from that. «Then there isn’t any possibility George could have stolen it.»
He looked at me, funny. «From what you tell me,» he said, «this George of yours wouldn’t know one painting from another.»
«I don’t think he would.»
«Well, that lets him out. He must have just picked it up somewhere. But where—that’s the question.»
I couldn’t help him there.
«I think,» said Cal, «I had better make a phone call.»
We drove down to the office and climbed the stairs.
Dorothy was waiting for me to come back, and she still was sore at me.
«There is a Colonel Sheldon Reynolds in your office,» she told me. «He is from the Air Force.»
«I can phone out here,» said Cal.
«Colonel Reynolds has been waiting for some time,» said Dorothy, «and he strikes me as a most patient man.»
I could see she didn’t approve of me associating with people from the world of art and that she highly disapproved of me meeting with the Air Force and she still was sore at me for giving Elsie such a short notice we were to have a dinner guest. She was very properly outraged, although she was too much of a lady and too loyal an employee to bawl me out in front of Cal.
I went into my office, and sure enough, Colonel Reynolds was there, acting most impatient, sitting on the edge of a chair and drumming his fingers on its arms.
He quit his drumming and stood up as soon as I came in.
«Mr. Page,» he said.
«I’m sorry you had to wait,» I said. «What can I do for you?»
We shook hands, and he sat down in the chair and I perched uneasily on the edge of the desk, waiting.
«It has come to my attention,» he told me, «that there have been some extraordinary occurrences in town and that there are certain artifacts involved. I’ve spoken with the county attorney, and he says you are the man I have to talk with. It appears there is some question about the ownership of the artifacts.»
«If you’re talking about what I think you are,» I told him, «there is no question whatsoever. All the articles in question are the property of my client.»
«I understand your client has escaped from jail.»
«Disappeared,» I said. «And he was placed in custody originally in an illegal manner. The man was doing nothing except walking on the street.»
«Mr. Page,» said the colonel, «you do not have to convince me. I have no interest in the merits of the case. All the Air Force is concerned about are certain gadgets found in the possession of your client.»
«You have seen these gadgets?»
He shook his head. «No. The county attorney told me you’d probably crucify him in court if he let me see them. But he said you were a reasonable man and if properly appealed to …»
«Colonel,» I said, «I’m never a reasonable man where the welfare of my client could be jeopardized.»
«You don’t know where your client is?»
«I have no idea.»
«He must have told you where he found the stuff.»
«I don’t think he knows himself,» I said.
The colonel, I could see, didn’t believe a word I told him, for which I couldn’t very well blame him.
«Didn’t your client tell you he’d contacted a UFO?»
I shook my head, bewildered. That was a new one on me. I’d never thought of it.
«Mr. Page,» the colonel said, «I don’t mind telling you that these gadgets might mean a lot to us. Not to the Air Force alone, but to the entire nation. If the other side should get hold of some of them before we did and …»
«Now wait a minute,» I interrupted. «Are you trying to tell me there are such things as UFO’s?»
He stiffened. «I’m not trying to tell you anything at all,» he said. «I am simply asking …»
The door opened, and Cal stuck in his head. «Sorry for breaking in like this,» he said, «but I have to leave.»
«You can’t do that,» I protested. «Elsie is expecting you for dinner.»
«I have to go to Washington,» he said. «Your secretary says she will run me to the airport. If the pilot can get me home within an hour or so, I can catch a plane.»
«You talked with the National Gallery?»
«The painting still is there,» he said. «There is a remote possibility there may have been a substitution, but with the tight security that seems impossible. I don’t suppose there would be any chance …»
«Not a ghost,» I said. «The painting stays right here.»
«But it belongs in Washington!»
«Not if there are two of them,» I shouted.
«But there can’t be.»
«There appear to be,» I told him.
«I’d feel a whole lot better, John, if it were in a safer place.»
«The police are guarding it.»
«A bank vault would be a whole lot better.»
«I’ll look into it,» I promised. «What did the National Gallery say about it?»
«Not much of anything,» said Cal. «They are flabbergasted. You may have them out here.»
«I might as well,» I said. «I have the Pentagon.»
We shook hands, and he left, and I went back and perched upon the desk.
«You’re a hard man to deal with,» said the colonel. «How do I reach you? Patriotism, perhaps?»
«I’m not a patriotic man,» I told him, «and I’ll instruct my client not to be.»
«Money?»
«If there were a lot of it.»
«The public interest?»
«You’ve got to show me it’s in the public interest.»
We glared at one another. I didn’t like this Colonel Sheldon Reynolds, and he reciprocated.
The phone banged at me.
It was Chet down at the police station. His words started tumbling over one another as soon as I picked up the phone.
«George is back!» he shouted. «This time he has got someone with him and he’s driving something that looks like a car, but it hasn’t got no wheels …»
I slammed down the phone and ran for the door. Out of the tail of my eye I saw that Reynolds had jumped up and was running after me.