Rendell shrugged

Rendell shrugged. "Can you get your money back?"

The director shook his head in despair. "I purchased it directly from a widow who claimed it had been in her husband's family for three generations. If I sued her, the case would drag on through the courts and it would be bad publicity. Everything in this museum would become suspect."

Henri Rendell was thinking hard. "There is really no reason for the publicity at all. Why don't you explain to your superiors what has happened, and quietly get rid of the Lucas? You could send the painting to Sotheby's or Christie's and let them auction it off."

Machada shook his head. "No. Then the whole world would learn the story."

Rendell's face brightened. "You may be in luck. I might have a client who would be willing to purchase the Lucas. He collects them. He is a man of discretion."

"I would be glad to get rid of it. I never want to see it again. A fake among my beautiful treasures. I'd like to give it away," he added bitterly.

"That will not be necessary. My client would probably be willing to pay you, say, fifty thousand dollars for it. Shall I make a telephone call?"

"That would be most kind of you, Señor Rendell."



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