Paul Quentin by Fred M. White — Read

By-and-by Dugdale saw that a line was attached to the cork. Soon he had it in his hand and drew it in slowly and with infinite care. Presently there came up from the depths a round object packed in brown paper and securely fastened with wire. The paper was stripped off at length, and, surely enough, in Dugdale's hand lay the jar lid that had so excited Quentin's curiosity, which had so greatly incensed Bassano. Dugdale wiped it carefully with his handkerchief and proceeded to examine it. He was no very great judge of such matters, but the lid of the jar seemed genuine. He declined to believe that such colouring was possible to a modern potter. There were tints which were not known to current science and a peculiar richness in the paste inside the lid which only the flight of time could give. It seemed strange that Bassano should have been so anxious to keep this beautiful object out of Quentin's way, and he must have had the most cogent reasons for concealing the lid in the depths of the lake. What was Bassano afraid of? Why were these extraordinary precautions necessary?

On that point Dugdale had his own theory. He was going to put it to the test later. He began to see his way to the bottom of an ingenious fraud, which was none the less clever because it was so amazingly simple. For the present he placed the lid in his pocket, packed up his fishing tackle, and walked slowly towards the house. Half-a-dozen fine trout had rewarded his efforts, so that no doubt would be cast upon his skill as an angler. It was past seven before Dugdale got back. His host and Paul Quentin were walking up and down the terrace, already dressed for dinner. In the strong light of the slanting sun Quentin looked somewhat drawn and delicate, though Dugdale thought he bore more than a superficial resemblance physically to his secretary Grenadus. Their colouring was different, their eyes varied in hue, but the features were alike even to a peculiar whiteness of the forehead which Dugdale had noticed in Grenadus. This peculiarity applied to the right temple, though the last time Dugdale had come in contact with Grenadus, in the conservatory at Silverdale, the latter had had a nasty cut over his right eye, from which the blood was oozing. Dugdale noticed that at the time indeed it had made a strong impression upon him. It came back to him now, and he could see under the skin of Quentin's forehead a suggestion of discolouration, like the dark marking under the hair of a pure-bred white fox terrier.