Tales of the Unexpected

own reasons for not wishing her to know that it is I who am commissioning the portrait.’
    ‘You mean…’
    ‘Exactly, Mr Royden. That is exactly what I mean. As a man of the world I’m sure you will understand.’
    He smiled, a crooked little smile that only just came through his beard, and he nodded his head knowingly up and down.
    ‘Is it not possible,’ I said, ‘that a man might be – how shall I put it? – extremely fond of a lady and at the same time have his own good reasons for not wishing her to know about it yet?’
    ‘More than possible, Mr Lampson.’
    ‘Sometimes a man has to stalk his quarry with great caution, waiting patiently for the right moment to reveal himself.’
    ‘Precisely, Mr Lampson.’
    ‘There are better ways of catching a bird than by chasing it through the woods.’
    ‘Yes, indeed, Mr Lampson.’
    ‘Putting salt on its tail, for instance.’
    ‘Ha-ha!’
    ‘All right, Mr Royden. I think you understand. Now – do you happen by any chance to know a lady called Janet de Pelagia?’
    ‘Janet de Pelagia? Let me see now – yes. At least, what I mean is I’ve heard of her. I couldn’t exactly say I know her.’
    ‘That’s a pity. It makes it a little more difficult. Do you think you could get to meet her – perhaps at a cocktail party or something like that?’
    ‘Shouldn’t be too tricky, Mr Lampson.’
    ‘Good, because what I suggest is this: that you go up to her and tell her she’s the sort of model you’ve been searching for for years – just the right face, the right figure, the right coloured eyes. You know the sort of thing. Then ask her if she’d mind sitting for you free of charge. Say you’d like to do a picture of her for next year’s Academy. I feel sure she’d be delighted to help you, and honoured too, if I may say so. Then you will paint her and exhibit the picture and deliver it to me after the show is over. No one but you need know that I have bought it.’
    The small round eyes of Mr John Royden were watching me shrewdly, I thought, and the head was again cocked over to one side. He was sitting on the edge of his chair, and in this position, with the pullover making a flash of red down his front, he reminded me of a robin on a twig listening for a suspicious noise.
    ‘There’s really nothing wrong about it at all,’ I said. ‘Just call it – if you like – a harmless little conspiracy being perpetrated by a… well… by a rather romantic old man.’
    ‘I know, Mr Lampson, I know…’ He still seemed to be hesitating, so I said quickly, ‘I’ll be glad to pay you double your usual fee.’
    That did it. The man actually licked his lips. ‘Well, Mr Lampson, I must say this sort of thing’s not really in my line, you know. But all the same, it’d be a very heartless man who refused such a – shall I say such a romantic assignment?’
    ‘I should like a full-length portrait, Mr Royden, please. A large canvas – let me see – about twice the size of that Manet on the wall there.’
    ‘About sixty by thirty-six?’
    ‘Yes. And I should like her to be standing. That to my mind is her most graceful attitude.’
    ‘I quite understand, Mr Lampson. And it’ll be a pleasure to paint such a lovely lady.’
    I expect it will, I told myself. The way you go about it, my boy, I’m quite sure it will. But I said, ‘All right, Mr Royden, then I’ll leave it all to you. And don’t forget, please – this is a little secret between ourselves.’
    When he had gone I forced myself to sit still and take twenty-five deep breaths. Nothing else would have restrained me from jumping up and shouting for joy like an idiot. I have never in my life felt so exhilarated. My plan was working! The most difficult part was already accomplished. There would be a wait now, a long wait. The way this man painted, it would take him several months to finish the picture. Well, I would just have to be patient, that’s all.
    I now decided, on the spur of the moment, that it would be best if I were to go abroad in the interim; and the very next morning, after sending a message to Janet (with whom, you will remember, I was due to dine that night) telling her I had been called away, I left for Italy.
    There, as always, I had a delightful time, marred only by a constant nervous excitement caused by the thought of returning to the scene of action.
    I eventually arrived back, four months later, in July, on the day after the opening of the Royal Academy, and I found