The Gates of Chance | Page 9

preside over our modest repast, and you can then gaze your fill upon
her. Faithfully, E. I."
Of course, I intend to accept the invitation.

II
The Red Duchess
At half after eight we sat down to dinner. Indiman, of course, took the
head of the table, and opposite him, propped up on the arms of an
enormous "bishop's chair" of Flemish oak, was Lely's portrait of the
"Red Duchess." What a glorious picture it was, in the masterly sweep
of its lines, in the splendor of its incomparable coloring! The jagged
edges of the canvas showed plainly where the vandal knife had passed,
separating the painting from its frame. But the really big thing is
always independent of its cadre; one hardly noticed the mutilation, and
then immediately forgot about it.
I had been honored with a seat at the lady's right hand, and opposite me
a fourth cover had been laid. Indiman noticed my look of inquiry.

"Only one of my fancies," he explained, smiling. "I always make
provision for the unexpected guest. Who knows what supperless angels
may be hovering around?"
We were hardly at the soup before a servant brought in a card.
"Roger W. Blake," read Indiman, aloud. "An honest-enough-sounding
name. Is the gentleman in evening dress, Bolder?"
"No, sir; I don't think so, sir."
"Hym! That is unfortunate. Still, if Madame la Duchesse will permit,
and you, Thorp, have no objection--Good! Ask Mr. Blake to do me the
favor of joining us at dinner."
A few minutes later Mr. Roger Blake appeared at the door of the
dining-room. He was a young man with a profusion of fair hair and a
good deal of color, the latter heightened considerably by the somewhat
embarrassing circumstances attending his introduction. But Indiman
relieved the situation immediately, going forward and greeting the new
guest with unaffected cordiality.
"Mr. Blake, is it? You are very heartily welcome, I assure you. Let
Bolder take your hat and stick; indeed, I insist upon it. Allow me now
to present you: Her Grace the Duchess of Lackshire, more generally
known as Lely's 'Red Duchess'--Mr. Roger W. Blake. My friend, Mr.
Thorp--Mr. Blake."
Evidently the young man was not overclear in his own mind as to how
it had all happened, but there he was, sitting bolt upright in the vacant
chair and drinking two glasses of wine in rapid succession to cover his
confusion. A comedy, apparently, but to what purpose? Mr. Blake
blushed painfully, and made no reply to the polite commonplaces that I
ventured; Indiman smiled benevolently upon both of us, and in the
most natural possible manner led the conversation to the subject of
portrait-painting. There was his text before him- -the famous "Red
Duchess"--and he talked well. I found myself listening with absorbed
attention, and even the shy Mr. Blake became oblivious of the keener

agonies of self-consciousness. So we went on until the game course had
been removed.
Our host rose to his feet, champagne glass in hand. "Gentlemen," he
said, and we followed his example, Blake managing to upset a decanter
of sherry in the process, "in life and in art--the fairest of her sex. I give
you, gentlemen, 'La Duchesse Rouge.'"
The toast was drunk with becoming decorum. I was about to resume
my seat when I saw that Mr. Blake had screwed himself up to a
desperate decision, and that the climax of the drama was at hand. He
was quite pale, and he stuttered a little as he spoke.
"Very sorry, I--I'm sure," he blurted out, "but you are Mr. In-
Indiman?"
"I am, and not in the least sorry for it. Go on."
"It is my d-duty, sir, to place you under arrest for complicity in the theft
of that p-p-picture." Mr. Blake threw back his coat and displayed a
detective's shield attached to an aggressively red suspender brace.
Esper Indiman bowed ironically. "I presume that my presence at Police
Headquarters is necessary?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir. I have a coach in waiting outside, and we will start at once, if
you please." Mr. Blake, under the stimulus of his professional functions,
lost his embarrassed air and became severely business-like and official.
"This gentleman will have to accompany us," he continued, looking at
me.
"The coffee, Bolder," called our host, "and never mind the sweets." I
drank a demi-tasse and lit a cigarette. "Ready," announced Indiman,
and we descended to the coach, Mr. Blake bringing up the rear and
carrying the precious picture enveloped in a silken table- cover.
"What reward is offered, officer?" asked Indiman as the carriage drove
off.

"One hundred thousand dollars, sir. It will be a big thing for me if--if--"
He stopped, a trifle embarrassed.
"Ah, those ifs!" quoted Indiman, musingly.
The chief of the detective bureau received us