“Certainly.  Mr. Vantine himself told me the story.”

“Very well, sir,” but his eyes dwelt lovingly upon the Boule cabinet.  “That is a very handsome piece,” he added.  “I am sorry the museum is not to get it.”

“Perhaps you can buy it from M. Armand,” I suggested, but the curator laughed and shook his head.

“No,” he said, “we couldn’t afford it.  But Sir Caspar might persuade Mr. Morgan to buy it for us—­I’ll mention it to him.”

The two men, meanwhile, under M. Armand’s direction, had been stripping the wrappings from the other cabinet, and it finally stood revealed.  It, too, was a beautiful piece of furniture, but even my untrained eye could see how greatly it fell below the other.

“We shall be very pleased to have Mr. Morgan see it,” said M. Armand, with a smile.  “I will not conceal from you that we had already thought of him—­as what dealer does not when he acquires something rare and beautiful?  I shall endeavour to secure an appointment with him.  Meanwhile....”

“Meanwhile the cabinet is yours,” I said.

He made a little deprecating gesture, and then proceeded to have the cabinet very carefully wrapped in the burlap which had been around the other one.  I watched it disappear under the rough covering with something like regret, for already my eyes were being opened to its beauty.  Besides, I told myself again, with it would disappear the last hope of solving the mystery of Philip Vantine’s death.  However my reason might protest, some instinct told me that, in some way, the Boule cabinet was connected with that tragedy.

But at last the packing was done, and M. Armand turned to me and held out his hand.

“I shall hope to see you again, Mr. Lester,” he said, with a cordiality which flattered me, “and to renew our very pleasant acquaintance.  Whenever you are in Paris, I trust you will not fail to honour me by letting me know.  I shall count it a very great privilege to display for you some of the beauties of our city not known to every one.”

“Thank you,” I said.  “I shall certainly remember that invitation.  And meanwhile, since you are here in New York....”

“You are most kind,” he broke in, “and I was myself hoping that we might at least dine together.  But I am compelled to proceed to Boston this evening, and from there I shall go on to Quebec.  Whether I shall get back to New York I do not know—­it will depend somewhat upon Mr. Morgan’s attitude; we would scarcely entrust a business so delicate to our dealer.  If I do get back, I shall let you know.”

“Please do,” I urged.  “It will be a very great pleasure to me.  Besides, I am still hoping that some solution of this mystery may occur to you.”

He shook his head with a little smile.

“I fear it is too difficult for a novice like myself,” he said.  “It is impenetrable to me.  If a solution is discovered, I trust you will inform me.  It is certain to be most interesting.”