"And the brigadier decided it might be lucrative if he held on to one or two of these?" I asked.

"More than one or two. A bucketful, more like. Claimed he had to leave the last load behind in Amsterdam, as they were too difficult to move, but Mr. Denis figured Easton had them here."

Mr. Denis was rarely wrong. No wonder the brigadier had looked so terrified. Denis had a long reach-only a fool would try to steal from him.

Not that I hadn't gone against Denis's orders myself in this instance. I'd been sent to frighten the brigadier so that he'd give up the paintings to Denis. Instead, I'd gotten him away, leaving Cooper unable to put his hands on either Easton or the artwork.

"I am sorry," I said. I truly was. Denis would vent his wrath not only on me, but on Cooper. "I had no idea about the paintings, or I would have made Easton tell me about them before he went." Whether I would have passed such knowledge to Denis was another matter.

"As you can see, I'm in an awkward patch," Cooper said.

"I do understand. The least I can do is help you look."

I did not need to ask him to describe the paintings Easton had stolen. I'd know them when I saw them. The artwork on Easton's walls were original watercolors of the house and grounds, likely done by Easton's wife, daughter, or a local fledgling artist. Any painting Denis acquired would be old, famous, and painted by a master.

I went upstairs, past two men taking out the paneling on the staircase, and to Easton's study. The room looked much the same as when I'd left it last night, Cooper's men not having reached it with their sledgehammers.

The room was long and narrow, with Easton's desk in the exact center of the carpet. The windows did not let in much light-though the rain of yesterday had abated, the sun was hidden by a thick bank of clouds.

I found spills in a jar on the mantelpiece and lit candles about the room. The painting above the fireplace was a rather dull one of the house surrounded by the flat green of Norfolk. Again, if not painted by Easton's wife or daughter, probably done by a local lad wanting to sell his services.