She handed me the directions to Johann’s place.

‘Oh, I should warn you that Johann is a bit of a crank. He often ignores strangers who come out to see him. He’s had quite a few visitors over the years come to ask him about his collectables. Don’t give up. Make sure you leave your name and number so he can contact you in case he changes his mind.’

I thanked her, returned to the car and followed the directions she’d given me. The whole time, I could feel Saeftinghe watching me, trying to pull me back like a current clawing the sand. A rusted gate came into view, framed by a stand of linden trees, and I pulled the car up beside a vast, three-storey farmhouse that looked as if it could hold twice as many paintings as Jeanette’s exhibition. I knocked on the door.

‘Mr de Witte?’

No answer came, but I thought I saw the upstairs curtains twitch. I waited a few minutes, then called out.

‘Mr de Witte? My name is Jo Baaker. I’m a historian. I’m trying to track down the owner of a particularly fascinating dress that I believe might have once belonged to a woman who worked for the artist Catharina van Shurman. I was told you have one of her paintings in your possession and I’d love to see it. In return, I can tell you more about the discovery of the dress.’

I stood back, waiting. The wind tinkled through a set of brass chimes hanging beside the door. Nothing stirred from within the house. I waited five minutes, then ten, and then fifteen.

‘All right,’ I said, at last. ‘You win. If you change your mind, please let me know.’

Suppressing my disappointment, I slipped my Texel address and phone number under the door. Confirmation of Anna’s ownership was so tantalisingly close and yet I could do nothing but hope the old gentleman might have a change of heart.