“I agree,” said Jacob. “I don’t find them interesting. But then I came upon something else.” His small face gazed at her seriously. “Do you remember that you once made an inquiry about a portrait of a girl? Quite good, we both thought. You asked the identity of the sitter, and I did inquire, but the artist did not tell me.” He produced another sketch. This was a pencil drawing, quite detailed, and he laid it in front of her. Louise recognized it at once.

“It looks like a sketch for that portrait.”

“Exactly, madame. I still have the portrait and I placed them together. There is no question. As a collector, you will well understand that to possess both the portrait and the artist’s sketch is highly desirable. I should certainly wish to sell the two together.”

“Naturally. Though we still don’t know the sitter’s identity.”

“No, madame. At least, not quite.” He reached into the portfolio. “But there is a third item, madame, a charcoal sketch, unquestionably for the same picture, and on this there is a name—as you see.” And he placed the charcoal sketch on the table. At the bottom, quite clearly, the artist had written a single name.

Corinne Petit.

Louise stared. And then, quite suddenly, she felt her throat contract, and before she could do anything about it, tears came into her eyes. There could be no further doubt. The coincidences were too many. Marc was her father. And she was looking at her mother.

She kept very still, hoping the little dealer had not noticed.

He stood up.

“I will bring the portrait in, madame, if I may,” he said, moving to the door at the back. “It’s interesting to see all three pieces together.”

He was gone several minutes. By the time he returned, she had fully recovered herself. But she felt sure that he had noticed, and that his absence was tactful kindness.

“You see, madame.” He hung the portrait on a blank wall, and adjusted the lighting. Then he held up the two sketches, one in each hand, beside the portrait.

“A set of three,” she said. “They look wonderful together.”

“I hoped you might say that. I think so too.”

“The painting was for someone else originally,” she lied. “But I might take them for myself. I remember you quoted me a price for the painting. But that was some years ago. What would it be now, with the drawings as well?”

“The same, madame. You are an excellent client.”

“You are kind, Monsieur Jacob.”

“If you will permit me, madame, I should like to get the drawings framed, and then we can arrange delivery.”

“Excellent, monsieur. Meanwhile, I shall choose a suitable place to hang them.”

When the transaction was complete, she prepared to leave.

“There is just one thing, madame,” Jacob said. He was gazing at her kindly. “The artist may ask me who bought the painting.”

“Just tell him that a private collector has the work.”