The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet | Page 3

belonged to Louis
himself. Of course I can't be certain without a careful examination, but
I believe that cabinet, beautiful as it is, is merely the counterpart of this
one."
He paused and looked at me, his eyes bright with the enthusiasm of the
connoisseur.
"I'm not sure I understand your jargon," I said. "What do you mean by
'counterpart?'"
"Boule furniture," he explained, "is usually of ebony inlaid with
tortoise-shell, and incrusted with arabesques in metals of various kinds.
The incrustation had to be very exact, and to get it so, the artist
clamped together two plates of equal size and thickness, one of metal,
the other of tortoise-shell, traced his design on the top one, and then cut
them both out together. The result was two combinations, the original,
with a tortoise-shell ground and metal applications; and the counterpart,
appliqué metal with tortoise-shell arabesques. The original was really
the one which the artist designed and whose effects he studied; the
counterpart was merely a resultant accident with which he was not
especially concerned. Understand?"
"Yes, I think so," I said. "It's a good deal as though Michael Angelo,
when he made one of his sketches, white on black, put a sheet of
carbon under his paper and made a copy at the same time, black on
white."
"Precisely. And it's the original which has the real artistic value. Of

course, the counterpart is often beautiful, too, but in a much lower
degree."
"I can understand that," I said.
"And now, Lester," Vantine went on, his eyes shining more and more,
"if my supposition is correct--if the Grand Louis was content with the
counterpart of this cabinet for the long gallery at Versailles, who do
you suppose owned the original?"
I saw what he was driving at.
"You mean one of his mistresses?"
"Yes, and I think I know which one--it belonged to Madame de
Montespan."
I stared at him in astonishment, as he sat back in his chair, smiling
across at me.
"But," I objected, "you can't be sure--"
"Of course I'm not sure," he agreed quickly. "That is to say, I couldn't
prove it. But there is some--ah--contributory evidence, I think you
lawyers call it Boule and the Montespan were in their glory at the same
time, and I can imagine that flamboyant creature commissioning the
flamboyant artist to build her just such a cabinet."
"Really, Vantine," I exclaimed, "I didn't know you were so romantic.
You quite take my breath away."
He flushed a little at the words, and I saw how deeply in earnest he
was.
"The craze of the collector takes him a long way sometimes," he said.
"But I believe I know what I'm talking about. I am going to make a
careful examination of the cabinet as soon as I can. Perhaps I'll find
something--there ought to be a monogram on it somewhere. What I
want you to do is to cable my shippers, Armand et Fils, Rue du Temple,

find out who owns this cabinet, and buy it for me."
"Perhaps the owner won't sell," I suggested.
"Oh yes, he will. Anything can be bought--for a price."
"You mean you're going to have this cabinet, whatever the cost?"
"I mean just that."
"But, surely, there's a limit."
"No, there isn't."
"At least you'll tell me where to begin," I said. "I don't know anything
of the value of such things."
"Well," said Vantine, "suppose you begin at ten thousand francs. We
mustn't seem too eager. It's because I'm so eager, I want you to carry it
through for me. I can't trust myself."
"And the other end?"
"There isn't any other end. Of course, strictly speaking, there is,
because my money isn't unlimited; but I don't believe you will have to
go over five hundred thousand francs."
I gasped.
"You mean you're willing to give a hundred thousand dollars for this
cabinet?"
Vantine nodded.
"Maybe a little more. If the owner won't accept that, you must let me
know before you break off negotiations. I'm a little mad about it, I
fancy--all collectors are a little mad. But I want that cabinet, and I'm
going to have it."

I did not reply. I only looked at him. And he laughed as he caught my
glance.
"I can see you share that opinion, Lester," he said. "You fear for me. I
don't blame you--but come and see it."
He led the way out of the room and down the stairs; but when we
reached the lower hall, he paused.
"Perhaps I'd better see my visitor first," he said. "You'll find a new
picture or two over there in the music-room--I'll be with you in a
minute."
I started on, and he turned through a doorway at the left.
An instant later, I heard a sharp