The Mystery of Sinister Scarecrow - M. V. Carey [15]
“I would be delighted,” said Malz, “but we have a date to play chess, remember?”
“We can play later,” said Mrs. Chumley.
“Very well,” said Malz. “Would you boys care to see the treasures?”
“Sure!” said Jupiter. “My uncle and aunt were here some years ago when Mr.
Mosby was still alive. My aunt still talks about it.”
Malz glanced at Letitia Radford. “Want to come?” he asked.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she said. “I’ve seen the Mosby place at least a million times.”“
“Then we’ll be back in a little while,” said Malz, ignoring Letitia’s rudeness. He led the boys across the road to the windowless building that housed the Mosby collection of fine art.
“There are a great many bank vaults that aren’t as secure as this house,” said Malz. He rang the doorbell and a guard let them in. Inside was a square entrance hall, empty except for several display cases and an ancient tapestry which showed a maiden reading in a field filled with flowers.
“Every aspect of this
building contributes to the
safety of the artworks,” said
Malz. “You’ve seen that there
are no windows. The alarm
system was specially designed
for the building. We have
guards in the daytime only
because visitors come then.
The lighting duplicates the
daylight, but it’s arranged so
as to cast no shadows, and it
carries no heat to fade or
crack old surfaces, as sunlight
does. The humidity here is
controlled, and the temperature remains the same twenty-four hours a day. The place is a curator’s dream.”
Malz began to show the boys through the strange building. Downstairs they saw rooms paneled with wood taken from European castles. There were cases filled with antique silver and rare old glass and beautiful illuminated books.
“But what about the famous paintings?” said Jupiter at last.
“Upstairs,” Gerhart Malz told him. He led the boys up a staircase that turned and twisted next to an oddly angled wall. There were two broad landings on the stairs, and on one stood a huge grandfather clock ticking away.
Marble-topped tables stood against the walls of the upper hall. On each was some curious and lovely thing. “Wait and see this,” said Malz. He stopped beside one of the tables. “It’s almost two. Now watch the crystal prisms hanging on this candelabra.”
The boys stared at the large silver candelabra on the table. The clock on the staircase chimed the hour — and the prisms on the candelabra quivered.
“I enjoy that,” said Gerhart Malz. “The prisms are so delicately balanced that they vibrate when the old clock strikes. They’re in tune with that clock. The candelabra is a new acquisition. I bought it last year. With the approval of the board of directors, of course.”
He walked on, and the boys followed him into a room that contained a small desk made of some light-colored wood, a delicately crafted chair, and one painting.
“Gosh!” said Pete.
The painting was the original of the one they had seen hanging in Mrs. Chumley’s sitting room.
“It’s the same, and yet it’s different,” said Bob as he studied the portrait of the woman with a rose.
“The difference, of course, is that this one was painted by Vermeer,” said Malz.
“The copy is excellent — but only a copy. It lacks the master’s touch.”
The boys were silent for a few minutes. Then Bob said, in a puzzled tone, “It looks so new. Didn’t Vermeer live a long time ago?”
“More than three hundred years ago,” said Malz. “This painting was probably done about 1660. When Mr. Mosby bought it, it had several old coats of varnish on it and it looked quite brown. I removed the varnish, and there was that fresh, lovely color.”
“Was it hard to do that?” asked Pete.
“To clean a picture is an art in itself,” said Malz. “It’s rewarding, though. We have several Rembrandts in the next room that used to be all dull browns and yellows, with deep black shadows. But Rembrandt didn’t paint that way. I worked on the pictures and now they’re colorful and vibrant and full of life. Come. I’ll show you!”
As they went into the hall, Jupiter sniffed the air “There’s