Still, it was dreadfully puzzling. And it was not nice to be puzzled at a time when the arch-conspirator ought to know every move of the game. Therefore it became necessary to go into Moreton Wells and see Merritt without delay. As Henson crossed the hall the cheerful voice of Littimer hailed him. "Reginald," he cried, "I want your assistance and advice." With a muttered curse Henson entered the library. Littimer was seated at a table, with a cigarette in his mouth, his brows drawn over a mass of papers. "Sit down and have a cigar," he said. "The fact is I am setting my affairs in order--I am going to make a fresh will. If you hadn't come down last night I should probably have sent for you. Now take my bank-book and check those figures." "Shall we be long?" Henson asked, anxiously. Littimer tartly hoped that Henson could-spare him an hour. It was not usual, he said, for a testator to be refused assistance from the chief benefactor under his will. Henson apologized, with a sickly smile. He had important business of a philanthropic kind in Moreton Wells, but he had no doubt that it could wait for an hour. And then for the best part of the morning he sat fuming politely, whilst Littimer chattered in the most amiable fashion. Henson had rarely seen him in a better mood. It was quite obvious that he suspected nothing. Meanwhile Chris and Bell were bowling along towards Moreton Wells. They sat well back in the roomy waggonette, so that the servants could not hear them. Chris regarded Bell with a brilliant smile on her face. "Confess," she said, "confess that you are consumed with curiosity." "It would be just as well to acknowledge it at once," Bell admitted. "In the happy old days your sister Enid always said that you were the clever and audacious one of the family. She said you would do or dare anything." "I used to imagine so," Chris said, more quietly. "But the life of the last few years tried one's nerves terribly. Still, the change has done me a deal of good--the change and the knowledge that Reginald Henson regards me as dead. But you want to know how I am going to get the Rembrandt?" "That is what is consuming me at present," Bell said. "Well, we are going to see the man who has it," Chris explained, coolly. "I have his address in Moreton Wells at the present moment, and for the rest he is called the Rev. James Merritt. Between ourselves he is no more a reverend than you are." "And if the gentleman is shy or refuses to see us?" "Then he will be arrested on a charge of theft." "My dear young lady, before you can get a warrant for that kind of thing you have to prove the theft, you have to swear an information to the effect that you believe the property is in the possession of the thief, and that is not easy." "There is nothing easier. I am prepared to swear that cheerfully." "That you actually know that the property is in the possession of the thief?" "Certainly I do. I saw him put it in his pocket."