Read Online Time Trapped by Richard Ungar - Free Book Online

eyes go wide. It’s the exact same as the painting resting on the easel.
    â€œ
Non!
” exclaims Julien. “It is an original Cézanne! I have only borrowed it from a dealer. Please,
monsieur,
this will be the end of me!”
    Uncle smiles a thin smile. “It is not I who chose to break our deal, Julien.”
    Then Uncle turns to Raoul and says, “Here is your chance to redeem yourself. Do you remember the lesson of earlier this morning?”
    Raoul nods.
    â€œExcellent. I’d like you to apply that lesson now. Look with your eyes, but more important, with your mind. Without performing a replica scan, I’d like you to tell me which is the original and which is the copy.”
    A long moment passes as Raoul studies the two paintings. Then he clears his throat and says, “The one on the easel is the copy, Uncle. He was putting the finishing touches on it when we came in.”
    â€œI see,” Uncle says. “Does everyone else agree?”
    â€œThe other one is the copy,” Frank says. “Julien did not immediately react when we burst into the room. That meant he knew we were coming. My guess is that the man with the eye patch tipped him off.”
    â€œGo on.”
    â€œHe had time to switch the paintings so that we would think the one on the easel is the copy . . . when in fact it’s the original.”
    â€œExcellent observation, Frank. Does anyone else have something to add?”
    â€œYes, Uncle,” says Abbie. “The brush he is holding is dry. He is using it as a prop to make us think that he is completing the painting on the easel.”
    Uncle gives Abbie a radiant smile. Then he turns back to Julien and shrugs. “I’m afraid my little band of detectives has sniffed out your lie.”
    Uncle gives a nod to Frank, who grabs the painting off of the easel.
    â€œ
Non,
” says Julien, and I can see sweat beading on his forehead. “I beg you,
Oncle
. Do not take that painting. The dealer, Monsieur Letourneau, will be enraged if I do not return it to him. Please, come back
demain
. Or even better, on Thursday next. I will have two new paintings for you then!”
    â€œIt is too late for bargaining,” says Uncle, drawing a knife from inside his jacket. I recognize it immediately. It’s one of the dirks that was hanging in the Great Hall at the castle.
    Julien is on his knees, clutching at the fringes of Uncle’s coat. “
Non, monsieur.
You do not understand . . . this will crush me!”
    â€œCalm yourself, Julien,” Uncle says. “It is not quite that bad. You are an artist, remember? Artists are meant to struggle. So, in a way I am helping you . . . by providing you with a struggle to overcome.”
    Uncle shakes free of him and takes two quick steps over to where the second painting leans against the wall.
    Holding it up for Julien to see, he stabs at the painting with the blade. There’s a terrible ripping sound as the knife slices diagonally through layers of pigment and canvas.
    Julien is sprawled on the floor, sobbing.
    â€œI’m afraid we must be going now,” says Uncle, pocketing his dirk. “
Adieu, monsieur.
Come along, everyone.”
    Uncle nods to Luca, who hangs back with Julien while the rest of us exit.
    â€œDid anyone notice whether Julien is right-handed or left-handed?” Uncle asks as soon as we are out of the narrow hallway.
    â€œHe was holding the brush in his left hand. So I would say that he is left-handed, Uncle,” Lydia says.
    A terrible scream comes from Julien’s studio.
    Uncle smiles and says, “That
was
true, Lydia, up until a moment ago. From now on, however, I can assure you that Monsieur Julien will be painting with his right hand. And as adaptable as our friend is, the paintings he will produce with his right hand will never approach the sheer brilliance of his earlier forgeries.”
    â€œI . . . I