CHAPTER XXII.

PORTRAIT OF A GIRL DIVING

On the following morning Nanette’s mother called. One great disadvantage of this era of freedom is that it has taken all the kick out of life. Without prohibitions there can be no thrills. If a pretty married woman had called upon my father in his bachelor days he would have immediately consulted his solicitor.

She looked more like Nanette than ever. Her shapely arms were sunburned, and (I thought) were very beautiful so. But, as Nanette had done, she declared that she was ashamed of her gipsy appearance. But she had come with some more definite purpose than merely to chat, and presently the truth popped out.

“Really, you know, Mr. Decies,” she said, “I don’t think it was quite playing the game.”

I suppose I stared like an idiot.

“You know quite well what I mean,” she added, and smiled in that way which was so like Nanette’s.

“On the contrary,” I assured her earnestly. “I really haven’t the faintest idea to what you refer.”

She stared at me very unblinkingly, then nodded.

“I can see you haven’t,” she confessed. “Perhaps you didn’t think there was any harm in it--and, of course, I admit the excellence of the charity. But I’m afraid it will get her talked about. At least, you might have consulted me.”

“Please--please!” I entreated. “Take pity upon me. You are clearly referring to something of which I have no knowledge whatever----”

“Mr. Decies,” she interrupted--and held out a newspaper which she carried--“I am referring to the picture in the _Daily Planet_.”

“But what have I to do with the pictures in the _Daily Planet_?” I asked blankly.

“Since you took the picture in question, the connection in this case is obvious.”

Dazedly, I opened the copy of the _Planet_ which she handed to me--and there, prominently featured, was a large reproduction of my snapshot of Nanette diving! The caption read:

A charming study of a charming diver. No wonder Madeira grows more popular every season. The original photograph is on view in the Modern Gallery, Bond Street, amongst a collection offered for sale in aid of St. Dunstan’s Institute for Blinded Soldiers.

To say that I was staggered is to convey but a feeble idea of my frame of mind. I stared at the picture until I seemed to see it dimly through a haze. When, at last, I looked up and met the reproachful gaze of Nanette’s mother, I was temporarily past comment.

My innocence must have proclaimed itself, for:

“Mr. Decies,” she said, and I saw her expression change, “I must apologize. You evidently are as surprised as I was. But this only deepens the mystery. Did you develop this film yourself?”

“No,” I answered. “It was on one of several spools which I brought back. The Kodak people developed it. But----”

I stopped short. The truth had presented itself to me. One of four people had taken this unaccountable liberty with the photograph. Jack, the inspector, O’Shea, or Nanette herself. For I had no evidence to show which of these four had removed the negative from the wallet.

“Yes?” Nanette’s mother prompted.

“The firm in question certainly knows nothing of the matter,” I went on. “You see, I missed this negative yesterday.”

“You mean that someone stole it?”

“Stole it or borrowed it.”

“But with what object?”

“Presumably a philanthropic one,” said I, very blankly. “Nobody profits--except the charity.”

“It resembles the work of an enemy--if one can imagine Nan having an enemy. Unfortunately, it is a perfect likeness. In fact, it was brought to my notice by someone. Personally, I don’t read the _Planet_.”

“What does Nanette think about it?”

“She doesn’t know. That is, she had already gone out when the paper was shown to me. She may know by now. I am afraid it will earn her a rather unenviable notoriety.”

I promised that I would thresh the matter out, but as I had a luncheon appointment all I could hope to do immediately was to ring up the _Planet_ and speak to the department responsible.

This led to nowhere.

The art editor was out, and apparently no other member of the staff knew anything whatever about the photograph--or about anything else.

I lunched that day at the Savoy Grill. So did nearly everybody who had been in Funchal whilst Nanette was there. The room appeared to be decorated with copies of the _Planet_, and my reception would have gratified Gene Tunney and overwhelmed Douglas Fairbanks. I grew stickily embarrassed.

Finally, I made my escape--and in the lobby ran into Jack.

“I say, Decies,” he exclaimed, “it’s hardly good enough. Nanette kicked at the picture from the first. Now you go and publish it!”

“Stop!” I said sharply. “This is the last time I shall explain the fact to anyone. But I did not send Nanette’s photograph to the _Planet_. Except that someone stole the negative from the portfolio at my rooms yesterday, I know nothing whatever about the matter.”

“_Stole_ it!”

“Exactly.”

“But when?”

“I missed it just after you had gone. In fact, Jack, I thought at the time you had borrowed it to have a copy made.”

“Good heavens, no! She didn’t want me to have it.”

“Then the mystery remains a mystery.”

“It’s so objectless!” cried Jack. “A photograph like that is just good fun amongst friends, but one doesn’t want the million readers of the _Planet_ to see it. This defeats me! Have you rung up the office?”

“Yes. I could get no satisfaction. I am going along to the Modern Gallery now.”

“I’ll come with you!” said Jack.