His suspicious nature took fright and Tarrant's dark,
bright eyes seemed to read his secret and search his soul.
"Yes, a portrait of Joan Tregenza was painted here last spring, but not by
a Newlyn man. How does that interest you?"
"Awnly sideways. 'Tedn' nothin' to me. I knaws the parties an' wanted to
see the picksher if theer weern't no objection."
"That's impossible, I fear, unless you go to London. I cannot help you
further than to say the artist lives there and his picture is being
exhibited at an art gallery. Somebody told me that much; but which it is I
don't know."
This was enough for Noy. Ignorant of the metropolis or the vague import of
the words "a picture gallery," he deemed these directions amply sufficient,
and, being anxious to escape further questioning, now thanked Tarrant and
speedily departed. Not until half way back again to Penzance did he realize
how slight was the nature of this information and how ill-calculated to
bring him to his object; the man he wanted lived in London and had a
painting of Joan Tregenza in a picture gallery there.
Yet upon these directions Joe Noy resolved to begin his search, and as the
train anon bore him away to the field of the great quest he weighed the
chances and considered a course of action. Allowing the ample margin of ten
picture galleries to London, and assuming that the portrait of Joan once
found would be easily recognized by him, the sailor considered that a
fortnight of work should bring him face to face with the picture.
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