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“The impatience of youth,” observed Lord Darlington mirthlessly.

“I should like to see your gallery,” said Holmes as though the brusque interruption had not occurred.

With some reluctance Lord Darlington took us into his inner sanctum. It was a long chamber whose ceiling was studded with skylights, none of which, we were informed, could be opened. Down the two long walls were a number of red velvet curtains covering a series of paintings. In the centre of the room was a comfortable swivel chair and a table containing a tantalus and an ornate cigar box.

“May we see the de Granville?” asked Holmes.

Without replying, his Lordship pulled back the cord on one of the curtains to reveal the masterpiece. I have only a layman’s appreciation of art, but even I could see that this was a work of great beauty and skill.

“It is magnificent,” said Lord Darlington, almost caressing the frame.

“Indeed,” said Holmes, examining the canvas closely with his lens. “Tell me, Lord Darlington, do you keep a dog?”

“A dog?” our client’s mouth dropped open. “No. Why do you ask?”

Holmes shrugged. “It is no matter at the moment.”

Lord Darlington seemed irritated at Holmes’s vague response. He consulted his watch. “Gentlemen, I have an important appointment in the House at eleven-thirty …”

“Perhaps you could leave us in the capable hands of your wife. I should like to ascertain some details concerning the domestic arrangements.”

“Very well, if you think it is important.”

We were left in the hallway while our client arranged for his departure and informed his wife of our request. Holmes casually examined the calling cards in the tray. His face grew taut with excitement as he caught sight of one. He grinned. “Muddy waters grow clearer, my dear fellow,” he said cheerily.

Once more we found ourselves in the drawing room. Lady Darlington had arranged coffee for us. She seemed to have lost her nervous edge and appeared composed and fully at ease, sitting on the edge of the sofa, hardly touching her drink.

“You do not share your husband’s love of painting, Lady Darlington?”

“It is his passion. I could never match his devotion to art. He leads a difficult public life and his paintings afford him relief and a respite.”

“You never visit the gallery?”

“Never.”

“What about your son?”

“Rupert?” Her face softened at the mention of her son and a loving smile touched her lips. “He has a young man’s interests, and old paintings form no part of those. Rupert and I are alike in that respect.”

“He is a member of the Pandora Club.”

Lady Darlington looked askance at Holmes. “He … he may be. I am not aware of all my son’s leisure haunts.”

“Or his acquaintances – like Lord Arthur Beacham, for example?”

“Lord Arthur, what of him?”

“He does not possess a very high reputation.”

“Perhaps not in the circles in which you mix, Mr Holmes. You must not listen to the gossip of maids and gardeners. Lord Arthur is a pleasant gentleman, but only one of many among Rupert’s associates. Now if you have no further questions …”

“Just one more, Lady Darlington. Who has a key to the gallery?”

“There is only one and it never leaves my husband’s possession. He carries it on his watch chain.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much.”

As we were being shown out of the house by a dour and decrepit butler we encountered a florid-faced, rotund man on the doorstep. He gave Holmes a polite smile of recognition and shook his hand. Holmes leaned forward and whispered some words in his ear before we set off down the street.

“Let us walk back to Baker Street,” said my friend vigorously, “I am in need of fresh air and exercise.”

“By all means,” I agreed, falling in step with him. “I gather that rather red-faced gentleman was Hillary Stallybrass come to verify the de Granville.”

“Indeed, it was, and I passed on a little advice that may be beneficial to him and certainly to us. Time will tell on that account.”

“What is all this business of Lord Arthur Beacham and the Pandora Club? Your remarks were rather pointed in that direction.