"All the same, to carry on the joke, let's go into the octagon room
and see if the alleged Fragonard pictures have gone, too," said
Annesley-Seton. He led the way, turning on more light in the adjoining
room as he went; and, outdistancing the others, they heard him stammer,
"Good Lord!" before they were near enough to see what he saw.
"They aren't gone?" shrieked his wife, hurrying after him.
"One of them is."
In an instant the three had grouped behind him, where he stood staring at
an empty frame, between two others of the same pattern and size, charming
old frames twelve or fourteen inches square, within whose boundaries of
carved and gilded wood, nymphs held hands and danced.
"Are we _dreaming_ this?" gasped Constance.
"Thank Heaven we're not!" the husband answered. "The two paintings are on
wood, you see. So was the missing one. Someone has simply unfastened it
from the frame, and trusted to this being a dark, out-of-the-way corner,
not to have the theft noticed for hours or maybe days. By all that's
wonderful, here's _another_ insurance haul for me! What about the jade
Buddha in the Chinese room?"
They rushed back into the green drawing room, and so to the beautiful
Chinese room beyond, with its priceless lacquer tables and cabinets.
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