The Wrong Way Down by Elizabeth Daly Read Free Book Online Page B

asked loudly: “How much more valuable?”
    â€œFifty to seventy dollars difference. Rather a mischievous kind of trick for a spirit to play,” said Gamadge. “Malicious, I call it.”
    Miss Higgs spoke in a low, rather husky voice: “Let’s see the thing.”
    Gamadge held it up by its top and bottom edges. “Nice thing,” he said. “Supposed to resemble Miss Vance’s great-uncle’s mother. Miss Paxton knew it well; that’s why she noticed that lettering had sprouted out on it. She’s worried—feels responsible.”
    Mr. Simpson said after a silence: “I thought something was supposed to be lost.”
    â€œWell, that’s of course the alternative,” Gamadge told him. “That the pictures were changed. This one was in the house in a kind of book-room—I mean it may have been. At any rate, the other is gone—either really gone, or supernaturally changed into what you see. If Miss Vance could tell us by clairvoyance what has happened to it, well, I needn’t say what a relief that would be to poor Miss Paxton.” He laid the portrait down again and turned to face Miss Vance. “Or if you can’t help her in that way, she thought it was just possible that you might be able to suggest some dealer who would be able to replace the other portrait. She tells me that your father was an artist, perhaps you have some knowledge of this sort. The thing wouldn’t be so easy to find. Miss Paxton wondered if you could possibly be persuaded to hunt one up among the galleries. Anything to get it back, you know, without a fuss and complications.”
    Simpson had stepped a little forward, but nobody spoke. Then Miss Vance laughed gaily, threw out her arms so that the sleeves floated like wings, and let her hands fall. She said: “This is stupid. He’s laughing at us.”
    Miss Higgs was scowling. Bowles was shaking his head at Mr. Simpson, but the young man walked up to Gamadge and spoke furiously: “What do you mean by all this? What’s the idea?”
    Iris Vance replied, still gaily, “He thinks I’m an underworld character. He thinks I stole the thing. No, really, when you come to think of it, what a joke on me!”
    Bowles came forward, a man who seemed to lumber but was light on his feet. He said: “Wait a minute, wait a minute,” and went up to the table. He leaned over the engraving, frowned at it, bent to read the lettering. Then he swung on Gamadge. “Let’s hear some more about this. Where was the other one hanging in that house?”
    â€œTowards the rear of the first-floor hall.”
    â€œFramed?”
    â€œFramed.”
    â€œAnd we’re to take your word for it that the frame could have been tampered with?”
    â€œAnd Miss Paxton’s word for it. My opinion is that it had been tampered with, and recently.”
    â€œThen all this stuff about spirit writing was phony? You didn’t mean it? You didn’t even expect Miss Vance to fall for it?”
    â€œIt was an approach. It wasn’t I, you know, who let in anybody else on our sitting. Miss Vance was free to respond as she chose.”
    â€œWell, of all the—”
    Mrs. Spiker now spoke, roughly but with a kind of careless good humor: “Don’t waste any of that on this guy, he’s too slick. Iris, go ahead and tell him you don’t have to go around picking up fifty dollars that way.” Simpson was about to speak, but she cut in on him: “No, it’s her business.”
    â€œYes,” said Miss Higgs shortly. “It certainly is.”
    â€œAnd I could have told you he didn’t believe in spirits,” added Mrs. Spiker, “one minute after he came into this room. Look at him.”
    â€œI’m looking at him.” Bowles lowered at Gamadge. “He’s out to get some picture back, he thinks he has proof Miss Vance has it, and he’ll hang on to