The Art Gallery

 The Art Gallery 

According to the routine, when I reached the office that day too, before stepping inside the building, I stood on the road and started looking at the beautiful board on which "K and k galleries" was written in the golden alphabet. This was the name of our firm which was engaged in the business of buying and selling Marvelous and rare masterpieces of painting. Even after several months with the board installed, the passion for its love had not diminished in my heart.

 But I was not the only one to see that board that morning. Near me, a fat man wearing a gray suit was staring at the board with such eyes as if he could not understand the purpose of that board. Then suddenly, sensing my presence, he looked at me and a satirical smile appeared on his face. I knew not only that smile but also him very well. His name was Peterson. And he belonged to the fraud division of the police. Needless to say that most of our past meetings were never happy ones for either of us.

 "Great! So you're here today, Harry Long."

He said with a smile. "I was told that if I go around this part of the city, I will see something interesting. It seems that this news was not wrong.

What trap have you set this time?"

 "No trap, no deception, Mr. Peterson," I replied.

 "I am doing a lawful and legitimate business from all times. To the extent that I also pay tax to the government on my income."

 "Does an art gallery earn you that much?"

 "why not."

 "Because as far as I understand, your experience and knowledge of art are equal to zero."

 "This is your idea, I have all the necessary knowledge to run my business. Apart from this, I have a partner who is responsible for this department of business. I take care of buying and selling."

 "Maybe so be it". Peterson patted me on the shoulder.

 "However, all I want is that you to stay within the law. In light of the experience of the past years, it will not be a good thing that I have to mess with you again because this time if you go astray, you will go to jail for a long time and I wouldn't be happy about that."

 "I feel your feelings," I replied. "Otherwise it's obvious why you bother to come this far."

Peterson did not answer and turned around silently and walked to the other side.

 Lowell was waiting for me in the gallery inside. He was a little nervous. Even under normal and leisurely conditions, he was as alert and restless as a fox, who had been locked in a room with hunting dogs. But despite all his flaws, the biggest quality in him was that he was a great painter.

 And also a painter for whom some special abilities were too much. For example, he used to copy any masterpiece of any living or dead painter with the ability that if the painter whose picture was copied by him, and if that painter himself saw the picture made by him, then for him It will be difficult to tell which is his own picture and which is the one made by Lowell.

It was this ability of Lowell that enabled us to take advantage of this art gallery and earn a living legally. Or should we say that to the extent that our condition would have been allowed through legal means. Lowell saw me coming.

 "You're late."

 "But it's not my fault for this delay," I replied.

"Our old friend, Sergeant Peterson, was found outside on the street. It looked like he was trying to figure something out."

 "Oh god," said Lowell, rubbing his hands. "He also had to come today."

 "Mr. Vincent called," Lowell said. "He is finally coming to see our pictures himself this afternoon. If he sees a policeman circling around, then........."

 "If he sees it, we'll tell him that we've asked the police to protect our precious paintings," I said, cutting him off. "It's not something that you are bothering about unnecessarily."

Having said this, I left Lowell and went to my office.

                                                        ……….

  I wanted to invite Vincent to the gallery from the time we set up this gallery. So when it came to know that he was finally coming today in the afternoon, I put the best and most valuable pictures on an easel in a small room equal to the art gallery, so that he could see each and every picture without any trouble and when If he sees a picture, then I take off the picture and keep it aside and he will be attracted towards the other picture which is visible from the easel. There were a total of eight such pictures, most of which were made in watercolor and in which the artist presented the natural views of his country.

  Vincent came on time and, sitting on the cloak in the room, began to take a leisurely look at the pictures. When he had finished seeing a picture, he would nod and I would take that picture off the easel and keep it aside. He liked the pictures.

"Very beautiful." he praised.

  He was a tall and slender man whose face mirrors his family's decency. His family was one of the old clans of that area of ​​the country. But by the time Vincent regained consciousness, the dynasty's nobility was over and only the name was left. But Vincent had made up for that gap to a great extent through his caste struggles. By the time he reached the age of thirty, he had achieved a lot of fame in the field of electronic business. For ten years, he continued to do business successfully and then started living his life comfortably and peacefully by selling his business with huge profits. Now, most of his time would be spent getting new and unique pictures. And in this connection, the stock of his paintings had grown so much that it was a big deal for a man like him to just come to our art gallery.

 "Very well." He said again and asked.

 "Where did you get all these from?"

 "These are a part of Mr. Dutchman's property. His wife has to be forced to sell for payment of government dues etc. Because if the dues were not paid, these paintings would have gone into government ownership along with another way and Then the paintings would probably have been handed over to the National Art Institute."

 "But how did you manage to get them instead of a big and famous art gallery?"

 "You are right, in normal circumstances these paintings would have gone to a big art gallery, but we had offered some amount as commission to Mr. Dutchman's lawyer to convince Mr. Duckman's wife to sell these paintings to us." replied and said with a shrug. "Although it can be called a bribe in a way and I don't like it in general, the problem is when a man is intending to set up a business, he has to do many such things which he does not consider good.

 A small smile appeared on Vincent's lips. It was something he understood very well. He nodded yes.

 "Perhaps you're right." Looking again at the painting, he said slowly. "Even though sometimes cases can be decided privately in such a way even the lawyer may not be aware of it. But the condition is that the cost should be reasonable."

 "I know," I said. "But unfortunately in the case of those paintings, there is also a condition as per the agreement that they will be sold through auction."

 "It's bad," said Vincent in a hushed tone.

It seemed as if he wanted to say something else, but at the same time the door towards the gallery opened and a stout fat woman peeped into the room. Her age seemed to be close to fifty years. Something in her hand was wrapped in paper.

 "Do either of you work here?" the woman asked, looking at me and Vincent in turn. "I've been searching for so long, but not a single person can be seen in the shop."

 "First of all, it's not a shop, it's an art gallery," I replied. "And only those people who are allowed to see the paintings before the auction who have made an appointment for it. Though I am right now......."

Vincent was looking at the woman with interest. The woman ignored not only me but also my words and spoke to Vincent.

 "I'll take a minute or two, I just want to know one thing."

And without waiting for a reply from me and Vincent, she started opening the parcel she was holding. It turned out that she had a painting one and a half feet long and two feet wide, but it was impossible to see the detail of the scene that was made in it because the whole painting was covered with color spots in many places. Vincent made a bad mouth.

 "My God." He said. "What have you done with this painting? Did you turn the bottle of ink on it?"

 "Actually it was lying in the basement, wrapped in a blanket," said the woman embarrassment.

During the rainy season, water dripped from the roof and kept falling on that blanket and the painting got spoiled. I am absolutely innocent in this regard. This is my sister's property. Even though she is not interested in this painting, she kept it in the basement just so that I would not ask her for this painting. 

 "That's fine, but Mrs......."

 "Mrs. Mary," said the woman. "My name is Mrs. Mary. So I was telling that when my sister saw that it was spoiled by getting soaked in water, she gave it to me. Then someone told me to take this painting to you, maybe you can clean it OK, I can't pay much, but my father brought it with him from France after the first world war. I have loved this painting since childhood, anyway it holds the status of a souvenir for me, so I want to see if it can be cleared, then definitely get it done."

 "I understand," I said, holding the woman's arm, and slowly leading her to the door. "But you should talk to my partner in this regard. If you go to the hall next to the gallery, you will find a girl sitting at the table there. Talk to her, she will connect you to my partner."

Taking the woman out of the room, I closed the door and turned again to Vincent, who was looking at me questioningly.

 "I told you that if a man is intending to set up his business, he has to do many such things which he does not like to do in normal circumstances," I said.

 Vincent laughed out loud. After all, when he had seen all the paintings he wanted to see, I took him out the back door. It seemed that Mrs. Mary had just left, as Lowell was still standing by her secretary's desk.

 "I think." I looked at Vincent. "You haven't met my partner yet."

 "No," replied Vincent.

 I introduced them both. The two of them shook hands, then Vincent said, "I can see that you have accepted to clean the painting of that woman. But I think it's just a headache and it's a waste of time."

 "No, there's no such thing," Lowell replied.

 "Actually the painting is covered with a coat of varnish. All I have to do is clean these stains with water, which will take no time and the original painting will be completely safe because of the varnish.

 Then after rinsing with water, another coat of varnish will suffice to restore it as before. Its frame is also cracked in one or two places, chemicals will be filled in it and the frame will also be brand new. 

 "If that's the case, that's great," said Vincent, then turned to me. "I hope you don't forget to inform me when the paintings go up for auction."

 "Sure, of course," I replied, smiling cheerfully.

 But as it turned out later, the auction did not happen. The lawyer who was the late Dutchman's property overseer called me and said that he has changed his decision, and now he has no intention of auctioning those paintings. I am not surprised by this information, but in a way, I was certain that this would happen. Vincent had reached his current position in such a way that he knew how to prepare whenever he had the opportunity. He spoke directly to Mr. Dutchman's lawyer without risking the auction, and he got all the paintings for much less than what he would have had to put up with the auction. But that was only one side of the matter, and I didn't care about the damage, because on the other hand, my case with Vincent (or let's add Mrs. Mary to that) was not over yet.

 After the first date of the second month, Mrs. Mary again came to my office. This time also the same painting was wrapped in paper in her hand. But this time she was not alone, Sergeant Peterson was also with her.

 "I'm very sorry for you, Harry." He told me. "You told me that now you have started doing fair business and I warned you to live within the limits of the law, but alas, you did not deter from your old tricks.

 "Okay." I wondered. "And what kind of trick have I used this time?"

 "You know very well what you have done," exclaimed Mrs. Mary. "I gave your partner a precious painting to clean up and now you both want to deprive me of that painting together."

 "What are you talking about, Mrs. Mary ?" I said in such a tone as if I was shocked to hear her talk. "Isn't it true that your painting was cleaned and returned?"

 "That's what you say," replied Mrs. Mary with the same swiftness. "But I will say that of course I was returned a painting, but it was not the painting I was given. I am not even ready to accept the argument that it looks different just because it was cleaned up.

 It is possible that you can fool others by making this excuse, but I had been watching that painting since childhood. It has remained in my mind as a map, so even a slight difference I can easily note and I say that it is not my painting and this thing is not only my concern.

 When my sister saw that clean painting, she advised that I should give the painting to her so that she can show that painting to an expert in art and get an idea of ​​its value. I knew that she wanted to take back the painting from me on this pretext, but still, it struck my heart and I myself took that painting to an expert who also trains art students at the university. He jumped as soon as he took a look at the painting. And he was so excited that he took out a thick book and explained to me that this painting is one of those paintings of the famous painter Martin, which is said to be either lost or spoiled.

 The professor said that Martin got real fame after his death. That is, in the time of about 1930, and by that time many of his paintings had disappeared because he used to sell those paintings to anyone at a very low cost to survive. However, the professor said that this painting of mine was also made by him. But then when he examined the painting more carefully, he started saying that he was sorry that his guess turned out to be wrong. My painting is not original but a copy made in Martin's style. There was no doubt in my mind on this also because my father always used to say that he himself had bought this painting from the painter. But it was also a fact that he had not spent much money on this. So I thought it was possible that the painter from whom he had bought it had imitated one of his paintings in Martin's style.

 But after looking later, I found it very strange that my father had bought this painting in 1914 or 1915 and Martin became famous in 1930, so why should any other painter paint Martin's painting fifteen years before Martin's fame? There was no need to copy. Whereas in general, often successful and famous painters' masterpieces are imitated. Whereas in the time of 1914, Martin was not famous. It was only from here that doubts began to arise in my mind that there was definitely something wrong and if it was, then it could have been related to you only. Because since the time my Father brought that painting, it had been in our possession. It was handed over to you to clean it for the first time, as it does not require any special intelligence to understand that you made a copy of that painting and kept the original painting with you and returned the fake to me but now your deception will not work. I want my original painting back. 

 "I don't have your painting," I replied.

 "Then I want the price. In the second case, you will have to go to jail."

 "What do you want to say in your explanation, Harry?" Peterson asked.

 "What other evidence is there against me other than this woman's statement?" I replied, shrugging my shoulders.

 "If you want to get permission from the public prosecutor to prosecute me on the basis of this woman's statement, then try and see. But I know this and you too know what will be the reaction of the public prosecutor in this matter.

 "You're right." Peterson smiled. But the matter is not only about her and your statement. Mrs. Mary says that when she brought the painting, besides you and your partner, another person was also present. He had also seen the painting, and Mrs. Mary is sure that he too will accept the statement that the painting has been changed.

 "What nonsense are you talking about?" I said,

 "You mean no one else was here at the time?" Peterson asked.

I will not deny that there was indeed a man here. But he had just looked at the painting with a cursory glance, he would not be able to tell you anything about it, but it is possible that he would get angry that you could have wasted his time.

 "I don't waste people's time," said Peterson angrily.

 "So don't try to avoid it and tell me the name of the man. Don't lie because even if Mrs. Mary doesn't know that man's name, she can't be tricked into recognizing him."

 "That man's name is Arthur Vincent." I finally said hesitantly.

 "Very well now we go to him and see what he has to say about this matter."

 "You mean now?" I asked

 "Yeah now," Peterson replied, staring at me. "It is possible that you are doing business within the limits of the law as you say. But I have known you for a long time, not from today. You call Mr. Vincent as soon as we leave and teach him what to say in front of us, and what isn't. One way to avoid this suspicion is for me to take you with me. Do you mind?"

 "No way. "

 "Then pick up your hat and come with us."

Peterson proved to be so tempted that he took me with him, but on his way to Mr. Vincent's house, he left me in the car under the supervision of a constable, lest I make any such gesture to Vincent that he would support my statement.  He went with Mrs. Mary to talk to Vincent, and they stayed inside for about half an hour, and when they finally came out, Peterson seemed serious and Mrs. Mary angry.

 "They both seem to be involved in this conspiracy," she said. "There can't be anything other than it ."

 Peterson didn't respond and opened the car door and looked at me.

 "Get out," he said.

 "I don't expect an apology from you," I said.

 "But at least drop me at my office from where you had brought me."

 "I say get out," Peterson said again.

 I got out of the car. Peterson and Mrs. Mary get into the car and drive off. I stood there till the car was out of sight. Then I entered the building and reached Vincent's flat through the lift. In response to my bell, Vincent opened the door.

 "I'm just here to express my apology," I said. "I tried my best to stop them from coming here and wasting your time, but Peterson was in no mood to listen."

 "There's no need for an apology," said Vincent.

 "It's good you come here, I was about to call you myself."

 He closed the door and I followed him. into the drawing-room, he gestured for me to sit.

 "It was not a good situation." He said. "I can't live without feelings of compassion and sympathy for that woman. But it was only her fault. She should have registered her painting in the International Art Registry or any other recognition hall so that later someone of this kind would The issue doesn't arise. That's what I told her. I tried to make her understand that she can't prove in any way that the picture she has now, that painting is not what she gave you to clear up. And since I had not seen the painting carefully, I myself cannot give any statement in favor of it. I hope you will be satisfied with my statement."

 "Of course," I said. "But what else could you have said in the present situation?"

 "I really couldn't say anything else?" replied Vincent, smiling slowly.

  "I won't say that I looked at the painting and can still recognize its change. But I remember very well what your partner said about the frame of the painting that it cracked in a couple of places. So when Mrs. Mary brought the painting, I took stock of her frame and saw that there is no chemical filled anywhere in it, and neither the frame was cracked anywhere.

Now it is possible that you argue that you had changed the frame of the painting and installed a new one, but for a modest and low-cost painting, there was no need to do this except in the situation that the painting is very valuable. 

He looked at me with groping eyes.

 "Opportunities like this come very rarely," he said, "and if luck comes along, it would be foolish not to take advantage of them."

 "Isn't it a fact that Mrs. Mary's painting was actually Martin's and you really changed that painting?"

 "You are a very good detective, Mr. Vincent," I said.

 "But why didn't you tell Sergeant Patterson and Mrs. Mary?"

Vincent's smile spread further.

 "Therefore, like you, Mr. Harry, I consider myself a fool to pass up a golden opportunity," he replied. "You sell me that painting. I will not try to suppress you by taking any unfair advantage of this situation. I am ready to give you fifteen thousand dollars for that painting and I also promise that this matter will be only for me. Until then it will remain so.

 "But that's not even one-third the price of that painting." I objected.

 "Right but not that low. My advice is that you should accept it or else I can still call Sergeant Paterson and say that I just remembered one thing: the frame of that painting ........

I didn't give him a chance to complete the sentence.

 "You are a very smart businessman, Mr. Vincent." I said, "I accept your offer, but the payment will be in cash."

 "Exactly as soon as you hand over the painting to me, I will pay you for it. And it is better if this work is done by this afternoon. My experience is that in such cases, the delay is fatal.

                                                       ……….

 

 When I got back to my art gallery, Mrs. Mary was waiting for me in my office.

 "Tell me how it was?" she asked while eating the apple.

 "Very nice, Rosie, very nice," I replied and opened the safe and took out a thousand dollars.

 "As decided between us," I said, giving her the money. "Here's your payment, count, that's a thousand dollars."

 "No need to count," Rosie said, keeping the note in her purse. "I know you don't want to cheat me.

  But I don't understand one thing. I hope you don't mind me asking about it. I mean why have you got so much headache selling just one painting? What was needed? It's okay that I got a chance to make a thousand dollars this way, and I thank you for that. But if that painting was as wonderful a copy as you say, then why did you have it in your gallery? If you had kept that painting in the gallery, any customer would have bought it thinking it to be real."

 "Actually the issue was about the way the painting was sold and its source."

 "What do you mean ?"

 "Many people have been buying fake paintings in the past and everyone is aware of this," I replied. "So, a smart customer these days doesn't buy a painting until he has done his leisure by getting it checked and rechecked, or until he knows where the painting came from and who was its first owner.

 Therefore, for the satisfaction of the customer, such an opportunity should be provided to him with some trick and such a situation should be created that he would think of a golden opportunity near him and try to take advantage of that opportunity at all costs.”

                        

                                                                                  THE END