The Mammoth Book of New Sherlock Holmes Adventures - Mike Ashley [49]
Lord Darlington shook his large head in disbelief. “By Jove, you are right, sir. If only you can unravel the mystery as easily as you have guessed at its nature, I will be in your eternal debt.”
Holmes raised an admonishing finger. “I never guess. It is an impractical pastime. Now, if you would be so kind as to familiarize me with the facts of the matter, I may be able to shed some light on your particular darkness.” So saying he sat back in his chair, both hands cradling the brandy glass, and closed his eyes.
Lord Darlington cleared his throat and began his narrative. “As you rightly stated, my passion in life is art and over the years I have built up what I believe is an enviable collection, one of the finest private galleries in Europe. It is not for their financial value that I treasure my canvases, you understand: it is for their beauty and power, their vivid interpretation of life.”
“Quite,” remarked Holmes dryly.
“Recently I took possession of a seventeenth-century painting by Louis de Granville, his ‘Adoration of the Magi.’ It is the most magnificent painting.”
“Louis de Granville – didn’t he die very young?” I said.
His Lordship gave me a brief smile. “Indeed. He died of consumption at the age of twenty-seven. There are only thirty known canvases of his in existence and ‘The Adoration’ is regarded as his best. I was so fortunate to acquire this wonderful painting.”
“Where did you obtain it?” asked Holmes
“For years it was deemed a lost masterpiece and then it turned up in a Paris auction house last spring. The bidding was fierce but I was determined to have it. One American bidder chased me all the way, but I managed to shake him off in the end.”
“And now it has disappeared.”
Lord Darlington’s face crumpled at this reminder of his loss. “I use my gallery as some men use tobacco or alcohol. Sitting alone with my pictures I am able to relax and allow the stresses and strains of the day flow out of me. Today I was due to make a visit to see my counterpart in the French government but at the last moment the trip was called off, so instead of catching the night train to Paris, I went home. Both my wife and my son were out on various social engagements, so I took myself to my gallery for a few hours peace and relaxation. Imagine my horror when I pulled back the cord on my beloved de Granville to find that it was missing.”
“The frame also?”
“Yes. There was no signs of forced entry and nothing else was disturbed. All my other pictures were there.”
“How big is the painting?”
“It is about two foot by sixteen inches.”
“Who has a key to the gallery besides yourself?”
“No one.”
“No one?” I found myself repeating our visitor in surprise.
“My wife and son have no interest in my paintings and I welcome that. The gallery is my private domain.”
“Who cleans and tidies the room?” asked Holmes languidly. It was clear that Lord Darlington’s dilemma did not excite a great deal of interest within his breast.
“I do. It is a simple task. I perform it once a week.”
“When did you last see the painting?”
“The previous evening. The charm of it is still so fresh for me that I rarely let a day go by when I don’t spend some time with it. I know you may find it strange, gentlemen, but I was actually dreading my trip to France, knowing I would be deprived of my paintings for some days.”
Sherlock