Denis Smith - The Mammoth Book of the New Chronicles of Sherlock Holmes

‘“The fact is, madam,” said the one who seemed to be in charge, “that I have realised that you are right and we are wrong. This sheet of paper with Mr Dryson’s name and address on it is an old one which we have been given in error. We shall have to go back to the shop and get the matter sorted out. I am very sorry that we have troubled you.”

‘With that, the men picked up their wooden crate again and left the house with it. This all struck Mrs Larchfield as rather odd, and after the men had gone she had a good look round the drawing-room to make sure that they had not stolen anything. When I came home she told me all about it and I, too, made a careful examination of the room but found nothing amiss. It was only later, after supper, that I noticed a very strange thing.

‘I had been thinking about the Marchmont Gallery and wondering if the delivery men had come from there, and I suppose it was this train of thought that made me look at the last painting I had bought from them, The Tomb on the Hill , to which I referred. No doubt when I had had a look round the room earlier, I had merely glanced at this painting and had not really looked closely at it. Now I saw to my utter astonishment that although the picture and frame appeared exactly as before in almost every way, there was one small but crucial change. The words carved on the tomb were now quite different from what they had been.’

‘How very curious,’ remarked Holmes. His tone was one of puzzlement, but there was an unmistakable look of delight upon his face, as of a wine connoisseur who has just taken his first sip of a particularly fine vintage. ‘Were there any obvious signs that the painting had been altered by hand?’

‘Not at all.’

‘Then we must assume that while your housekeeper was out of the room, the men substituted a painting that was in their packing-case for the one hanging on the wall.’

‘I suppose you must be right.’

‘Is the new painting an inferior copy of the original?’

Dryson shook his head. ‘It is signed by the same artist, A.R. Philips. Of course, I realise that the signature in itself would prove nothing, but the picture does appear to be by the same hand. Besides, my painting is not particularly valuable. It is not by an “Old Master”, or anything like that, but by a young artist who is currently active.’

‘Do you know anything of the artist?’

‘Not really. I seem to remember hearing that he has a studio out Putney way and has exhibited at the Royal Academy. I believe he is moderately popular without being very well known, if you know what I mean. If you are right, he must have painted two or more versions of the same scene, I suppose, although why he should do so and why someone should wish to steal mine and leave another in its place, I cannot imagine.’

‘Hum! I think I should like to see this painting, Mr Dryson,’ said Holmes, rising to his feet. ‘Would that be possible?’

‘Certainly. We can walk round to my house in just a few minutes.’

Entering Mr Dryson’s drawing-room was somewhat like entering an Aladdin’s cave, so full was it of objets d’art of all types, shapes and sizes. The painting we had come to see was hanging in a prominent place to the right of the window. It was a fairly large picture, the overall size including the frame being about two feet wide and two and a half feet tall. Depicted in it, as Holmes’s client had described, was a large stone tomb. Around the tomb were a few young trees and beyond it the land dropped away to a broad fertile plain which stretched far into the distance, to where a row of purple hills marked the horizon. On the plain, a few sheep were dotted about and in the far distance was a small fountain of some kind, with a jumble of rocks about it, upon which the water was falling. In the foreground, a rustic figure in leather gaiters and a battered soft hat was leaning on a stout staff as he gazed upon the tomb. About his feet and a little behind him, among the trees, were a few small rabbits, and two or three ducks were waddling past the tomb. Clearly visible on the side of the tomb were the following lines:

‘Do you recall the tomb inscription on your own picture?’ Holmes asked his client.

‘Yes,’ answered Dryson. ‘I made a note of it in case you asked.’ He passed us a sheet of note-paper, upon which I read the following:

‘This inscription would certainly not win any poetry prizes,’ said Holmes with a chuckle. ‘Do you know which of them – if either – is on the tomb in Yorkshire?’

‘I’m afraid I have no idea.’

‘Are there any other differences between this picture and your own?’

‘That little fountain in the distance is not on mine,’ replied Dryson. ‘Apart from that, the only difference I can see is in the number of ducks and rabbits. There are definitely more of both in this picture.’

Holmes then carefully lifted the picture from the wall and turned it round. ‘Hum!’ said he. ‘The back of this picture has recently been removed and then replaced, using the original tacks. There is a label on the back from the Marchmont Gallery, so this picture is from the same source as your own, Mr Dryson. You had no idea when you purchased your picture that there was another one, almost identical to it?’

‘No, I hadn’t. I had seen it in Marchmont’s window for a few days and looked at it several times, wondering if I should get it. Eventually I went in and enquired about it and the proprietor, a Mr Appleby, informed me that they were selling it as agents for a client of theirs, a widow whose late husband had amassed quite a large collection of works of art which she now wished to trim a little, as she was about to move to a smaller house. He told me the price she was asking for the picture and I went home to consider the matter further. The next day, having made my mind up, I returned and made them an offer – which was a little less than the asking price – and two days later I had a note from them to say that the seller had accepted my offer.’

‘Do you know the seller’s name?’

‘No. I don’t think it was ever mentioned.’

‘I think we should try to find out a little more about these pictures. Will you come to the Marchmont Gallery with us, Mr Dryson? They are more likely to give us the information we seek if you are present.’

Dryson was quite amenable to accompanying us and fifteen minutes later we were pushing open the door of the gallery, where we were welcomed by a tall, bald-headed man, who introduced himself to us as Mr Appleby.

‘My friend, Mr Dryson, recently bought a painting here,’ said Holmes.

‘Indeed. I remember it well,’ returned Appleby. ‘ The Tomb on the Hill . Is there some problem with it?’

‘No, but he has recently learnt that there is another version of the same painting, also sold by you, I believe, and he is curious as to who owns that one.’

‘It is not our policy to divulge the names and addresses of our private clients.’

‘Of course, I understand that. But in this case, Mr Dryson simply wishes to examine the two paintings together, out of artistic curiosity. He is sure the other gentleman would be as interested as he is to see them displayed side by side.’

‘That might prove somewhat difficult to arrange,’ said Appleby.

‘Why is that?’ asked Dryson. ‘Is the owner away?’