"There was not a contemporary duplicate?" I inquired. "Could LEONARDO have painted two?"
The Chowder King, or whatever he is called, smiled inscrutably. "No doubt he _could_," he said. "But perhaps," he continued, "you have not seen the Louvre picture since it was put back after the theft?"
He laughed softly and led the way to the door.
Now what I want to know is, is it possible that--?
This terrible thought has been haunting me day and night.
I have asked many Americans to tell me about this collector and his methods, but I can get no exact information. But it seems to be agreed that he would stick at nothing to get a coveted work beneath his roof. If I have many more such shocks as he gave me I shall give up paint altogether and specialise in photography or the three-colour process.
Anyway, it is God's own country, and I will tell you my further adventures as I have them. Tomorrow I am to attend a reception at the White House to hear ELLA WHEELER WILCOX recite an Ode at the President.
[Illustration: _Mr. Green_. "IT DOESN'T SEEM TO ME TO LOOK QUITE RIGHT."
_Artist (engaged solely on account of shortage of labour)._ "WELL, SIR, THE PANEL WAS A BIT ON THE LONG SIDE, BUT I THOUGHT I'D SPUN THE LETTERING OUT VERY NICE."]
SCENE.--_A shell-pitted plain and a cavalry regiment under canvas thereon. It is not yet "Lights out," and on the right hand the semi-transparent tents and bivouacs glow like giant Chinese lanterns inhabited by shadow figures. From an Officers' mess tent comes the tinkle of a gramophone, rendering classics from "Keep Smiling." In a bivouac an opposition mouth-organ saws at "The Rosary." On the left hand is a dark mass of horses, picketed in parallel lines. They lounge, hips drooping, heads low, in a pleasant after-dinner doze. The Guard lolls against a post, lantern at his feet, droning a fitful accompaniment to the distant mouth-organ. "The hours I spent wiv thee, dear 'eart, are-Stan' still, Ginger--like a string of pearls ter me-ee ... Grrr, Nellie, stop kickin'!" The range of desolate hills in the background is flickering with gun-flashes and grumbling with drum-fire--the Bosch evensong.
A bay horse (shifting his weight from one leg to the other)._ Somebody's catching it in the neck to-night.