“No?” Larry picked up the Italian mother which for this occasion he had mounted with thumb-tacks upon a drawing-board, and stood it upon a chair in the most advantageous light.  “There is a little thing in Mr. Hunt’s recent manner which I lately purchased.”

Mr. Graham regarded the painting long and critically.

Finally he remarked: 

“At least it is different.”

“Different and better,” said Larry with his quiet positiveness.  “So much better that I paid him three thousand dollars for it.”

“Three thousand!” The dealer regarded Larry sharply.  “Three thousand for that?”

“Yes.  And I consider that I got a bargain.”

Mr. Graham was silent for several moments.  Then he said “For what reason have I been asked here?”

“I want you to undertake to sell this picture.”

“For how much?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

“Five thousand dollars!”

“It is easily worth five thousand,” Larry said quietly.

“If you value it so highly, why do you want to sell?”

“I am pressed by the present money shortage.  Also I secured a second picture when I got this one.  That second picture I shall not sell.  You should have no difficulty in selling this,” Larry continued, “if you handle the matter right.  Think of how people have started again to talk about Gaugin:  about his starting to paint in a new manner down there in the Marquesas Islands, of his trading a picture for a stick of furniture or selling it for a few hundred francs—­which same paintings are now each worth a small fortune.  Capitalize this Gaugin talk; also the talk about poor mad Blakeslie.  You’ve got a new sensation.  One all your own.”

“You can’t start a sensation with one painting,” Mr. Graham remarked dryly.

This had been the very remark Larry had adroitly been trying to draw from the dealer.

“Why, that’s so!” he exclaimed.  And then as if the thought had only that moment come to him:  “Why not have an exhibition of paintings done in his new manner?  He’s got a studio full of things just as characteristic as this one.”

Larry caught the gleam which came into the dealer’s eyes.  It was instantly masked.

“Too late in the spring for a picture show.  Couldn’t put on an exhibition before next season.”

“But why not have a private pre-exhibition showing?” Larry argued—­ “with special invitations sent to a small, carefully chosen list, putting it over strong to them that you were offering them the chance of a first and exclusive view of something very remarkable.  Most of them will feel flattered and will come.  And that will start talk and stir up interest in your public exhibition in the fall.  That’s the idea!”

Again there was the gleam, quickly masked, in the dealer’s eyes.  But Larry got it.

“How do I know this picture here isn’t just an accident?—­the only one of the sort Mr. Hunt has ever painted, or ever will paint?” cautiously inquired Mr. Graham.  “You said you had a second picture.  May I see it?”