“Impossible.” He looked at me as if I were Hannibal before the gates. “Not possible, madam.”

He seemed quite certain.

I was quite determined, however.

I had not come this far to be shooed away within reach of my goal. I opened my mouth to give the lengthy argument I had prepared. But then I thought better of it. I would no longer waste time on convincing obstacles to move out of my way. From now on, I was going to charge through them.

“Very well. I shall find the man myself.” I marched down the hallway, glancing back only to urge the boys in our invading army of three. “Hurry!”

The gentleman who had escorted me into the building seemed to have manners. Maybe he would help. I strode straight to the door behind which he had disappeared.

The porter scrambled from behind his desk. “Madam! Madam!”

If he was going to hold against me that I was a woman, I was going to use that he was a man. I ripped my hat off and tossed it behind me.

Courtesy demanded that he stopped to collect it. “You lost your hat, madam!”

He picked it up and charged forward again. Too late. My hand was already on the doorknob.

I executed a cursory knock, but didn’t wait for an answer. I opened the door and gestured the boys forward. “Quickly. In here.”

As soon as we were inside, I closed the door, turning the key.

The porter banged behind me. “Meneer De Jong!”

The room I had invaded had a window on the opposite wall, a fireplace with chairs to my left, and the now-familiar man at his desk on my right.

“No worries, Hendrik,” he called out. “All is well.”

And while I grasped for explanation for my audacious actions, he rose to his feet.

The boys drew behind me, likely regretting hiring themselves out to a madwoman. I had second thoughts myself. I shook them off. One did not change one’s mind in the middle of battle.

“Forgive me for the intrusion.” Did I truly break into a stranger’s office? I would have to think about that later. Right then, I had to save the moment. “I am Johanna van Gogh, and I require your assistance.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Mevrouw Van Gogh. Daan de Jong, at your service. I would be happy to assist you in any manner I can, madam.”

“Could you please escort me to the person in charge of scheduling exhibits?”

A playful smile came into his eyes. “I hope you haven’t been expecting an imposing figure, because I regret to inform you that you are talking to the man.”

Oh, just breathe, for love’s sake. I had to look in control instead of scared. That De Jong had not threatened me with the law yet helped.

“I represent the artist Vincent van Gogh, recently deceased.”