Every few moments he glanced toward the door, but as there was no sign of them, he began to study his daughter’s work more carefully. Although only ten, she already had a style of her own; the brushwork was bold and confident with no suggestion of second attempts. And then he stopped in front of the painting entitled My Father and understood why Dr. Wolfe had singled it out as quite exceptional. The image of a man and woman holding hands seemed to Seb to have been influenced by René Magritte. The woman could only have been Samantha, the warm smile and the kind eyes and even the tiny birthmark that he would never forget. The man was dressed in a gray suit, white shirt and blue tie, but the face hadn’t been filled in, just left blank. Seb felt so many emotions: sadness, stupidity, guilt, regret but, most of all, regret.

He quickly checked the door again before walking over to a desk where a young woman was sitting behind a sign that read SALES. Sebastian turned the pages of his catalogue, then asked for the price of items 9, 12, 18, 21, 37 and 52. She checked her list.

“With the exception of number thirty-seven, they are all a hundred dollars each. And, of course, all the money goes to charity.”

“Please don’t tell me number thirty-seven has already been sold?”

“No, sir. It is for sale, but I’m afraid it’s five hundred dollars.”

“I’ll take all six,” said Seb, as he removed his wallet.

“That will be one thousand dollars,” said the woman, making no attempt to hide her surprise.

Seb opened his wallet and realized immediately that, in his rush to get the cab, he’d left most of his cash in the hotel safe. “Can you reserve them for me?” he asked. “I’ll make sure you have the money long before the show closes.” He didn’t want to explain to her why he couldn’t just sign a check. That wasn’t part of plan A.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do that,” she said. Just then, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

Seb froze and turned in panic to see Dr. Wolfe smiling at him.

“Miss Tomkins,” she said firmly. “That will be quite all right.”

“Of course, headmistress.” Looking back at Seb, she asked, “What name shall I put on the sales sheet?”

“Put them all in my name,” said Dr. Wolfe before Seb could reply.

“Thank you,” said Seb. “When can I collect them?”

“Any time on Sunday afternoon,” said Miss Tomkins. “The show closes at five.”

“Thank you again,” said Seb, before turning back to Dr. Wolfe.

“I came to warn you that I’ve just spotted Samantha and Jessica driving into the car park.” Seb looked across to the door, which seemed to be only one way out. “If you follow me,” said Dr. Wolfe, “I’ll take you to my study.”