In half an hour more, Mr. Bygrave--spruce, speckless, and respectable as
ever--appeared on the Parade, sauntering composedly in the direction of
Sea View.
Instead of at once entering the house, he passed it; stopped, as if
struck by a sudden recollection; and, retracing his steps, asked for Mr.
Vanstone at the door. Mr. Vanstone came out hospitably into the
passage. Pitching his voice to a tone which could be easily heard by any
listening individual through any open door in the bedroom regions, Mr.
Bygrave announced the object of his visit on the door-mat in the fewest
possible words. He had been staying with a distant relative. The distant
relative possessed two pictures--Gems by the Old Masters--which he was
willing to dispose of, and which he had intrusted for that purpose to
Mr. Bygrave's care. If Mr. Noel Vanstone, as an amateur in such matters,
wished to see the Gems, they would be visible in half an hour's time,
when Mr. Bygrave would have returned to North Shingles.
Having delivered himself of this incomprehensible announcement, the
arch-conspirator laid his significant forefinger along the side of his
short Roman nose, said, "Fine weather, isn't it? Good-afternoon!" and
sauntered out inscrutably to continue his walk on the Parade.
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