Lestrade, I was pleased to discover, was more interested in the murder attempt on Holmes than any potential breakthrough regarding the paintings. I admit that, for once, I had some sympathy with his priorities.
‘Really, Mr Holmes, you would be best advised to place yourself under the protection of the Metropolitan Police until we are able to ascertain just what the Albino is up to, and who else he may have sent after you!’
Lestrade was in many ways a phlegmatic man, but there was no doubting the strength of his emotions. I had insisted in the hansom that we tell the Inspector about both the shooting and the earlier attempt to run Holmes down in the street, and Lestrade had reacted exactly as I would have expected. He had been berating Holmes for several minutes without pause now.
‘If you had informed the Yard about the first attempt, we might well have been in a position to make an arrest by now, and would certainly have been better positioned to offer you a degree of protection from further assaults on your person.’
Holmes, I knew, was only suffering this barrage because without Lestrade he had no access to the paintings, which were securely under lock and key in one of the Yard’s vaults. He shuffled from one foot to the other, the pressure of biting his tongue almost palpable. In the face of such unexpected contrition, Lestrade’s anger had nothing upon which to feed and it quickly dissipated.
As Lestrade tailed off, Holmes reassured him that, in future, Scotland Yard would absolutely be his first port of call should anyone try to kill him.
‘In the meantime, however,’ he continued, as though the idea had just struck him, ‘might the paintings be brought up?’ He smiled. ‘I have a theory that I would like to put to the test.’
Lestrade, whatever opinion Holmes might hold of him, was no fool, and knew that he had been duped. But he was a policeman first and foremost, and therefore a pragmatist. ‘Very well, Mr Holmes, we’ll say no more on the subject for now, and I’ll have the paintings brought in for you to examine again… but mind what I said, do you hear?’
Satisfied that he had had the last word, Lestrade left to arrange the movement of our small art collection. Holmes watched him depart with a half-smile on his face.
Within half an hour, Lestrade’s men had arranged the paintings on five wooden easels in a spacious, well-lit office at the top of the building. Holmes had insisted on as much natural light as possible, and as I watched him stalk from one to the other, a look of monomaniacal concentration on his face, I was strongly reminded of our visit to the restoration company the previous week. In front of each painting Holmes paused and stared, occasionally making a note in a notebook he carried with him, but said nothing and gave no other indication that he was even aware that Lestrade or I existed.
For hours, long into the night and the following morning, Holmes continued his silent appraisal. Lestrade left at midnight, pleading a busy day to come, and I admit that I was dozing in a chair when Holmes suddenly clapped his hands together and gave out a loud exclamation of pleasure.
‘Quickly Watson, come and look at this!’
Holmes was standing directly in front of the portrait of King Charles, with one long finger pointing at the monarch and his priest. I could see nothing unusual and said so to Holmes.
‘Evidently your sleep has left you muddle-headed, Watson,’ he said mockingly. ‘What do you think the two men are doing in this picture? Look closely,’ he warned.
I bent my head until my nose was all but touching the paint, but still I could see no cause for Holmes’s excitement. The painting was exactly as I recalled, showing the King and his priest standing, reading from the Scriptures, with a large mirror in the background, in which the reflection of a bed could be seen. ‘They’re looking at the Bible, Holmes. What of it?’
‘Not a Bible, Watson, though it was once, I imagine. The artistry is exquisite, but I believe that I can see the tiniest thickening in the depth of the paint where the title was changed.’
‘Holmes, for pity’s sake, what are you talking about? What blemish?’
‘On the book, Watson. On the cover, to be precise. Someone has painted over the front of the book, and replaced whatever was there with something new. Can you not make it out?’
I stood back a little and concentrated on the tiny cover of the book that the King and priest were admiring. The angle at which the artist had depicted the duo, and the manner in which the priest held the book, the better to point out some theological passage or other, meant that only a portion of the cover could be seen, but now that I took the time I could see quite clearly that rather than being some indicator of a Biblical volume, the word, or part word, which was emblazoned on the brown leather was ‘quin’.
‘Five?’ I said. ‘Not Charles the First, but the number five. Well done, Holmes! You really are making progress now.’
To my surprise Holmes was exasperated, not pleased, by my words.
‘I think not, Watson. The other paintings take their numerical position from their subject matter, not from the minutiae of individual items; I doubt that this is any different. And besides, I realised two hours ago that Augustine Hamblin was the fifth of that name. Miss Rhodes told us as much when she showed us the piece. That is our number five.
‘No, Watson, the significance of “quin” is two fold. First, and most obviously, it is the name of an author – and I would suggest that the author in question is Saint Thomas Aquinas. Secondly, and far more importantly, the addition was skilfully done, and not done recently.’
‘The addition? You believe that the title on the book was not part of the original painting, but was added at a later date? Our forger has been busy, has he not? But why both make a forgery and make a change to the original?’
Holmes shook his head. ‘You will recall that Miss Rhodes described the forgery of this painting as inferior, whereas this act of vandalism is so well done that I did not notice it for hours, even under a magnifying glass. Though see here – even a master craftsman can overlook a tiny detail.’ He moved the glass slightly so that it magnified the mirror behind the two men. ‘The artist remembered to correct the reflection of the cover, but the paint was too thinly spread just at the edge. Do you see? The last letter of the original title can just be made out. An “E”, from the conclusion of “HOLY BIBLE” I would say. It was that which caused me to examine the cover itself more closely yet.’
Now that he pointed it out, I could make out a lighter smudge of paint that could well be an E. ‘Could this be the work of whoever forged the portrait of Hamblin senior?’
‘A better thought, Watson, but still no – this could not have been the work of the same man,’ Holmes replied. ‘This change was carried out more than two hundred years ago. The paint used to cover up whatever was originally written on the book’s cover is an exact match for the paint used on the cover itself. An exact match. Almost as though the paint came from the same palette.’
‘You are saying that Horace Hamblin both created the original and amended it later? But why?’
Holmes sighed heavily. ‘At some point after painting the original, Hamblin went back and amended his work, obviously, adding the name of Thomas Aquinas. The conclusion is inescapable. The name of Aquinas himself is a clue to England’s Treasure, if only we can decipher it.’
Holmes’s eyes were sparkling and his long face could barely contain the pleasure I knew he felt as pieces of the puzzle fell into place in his mind. He closed his eyes for a moment then flicked them open again as his extraordinary mind made another link in the chain.
‘I must speak with Miss Rhodes, of course. She may be able to confirm the presence of a volume of Aquinas’s works in the library at Hamblin Hall. And you had better make arrangements to hire a special train, too, Watson. We will want to take all of the paintings with us to the Hall, and the thought of carrying four extremely valuable artworks on a public train – not to mention the excellent forgery of Augustine Hamblin – is not one that fills me with joy. While you are doing that I will take the opportunity to examine one or two other elements of the paintings. Perhaps I can find further additions.’
I left Holmes focussing his magnifying glass on the Magi’s gifts, and set out to find Inspector Lestrade.