“He could have blackmailed you for something besides money.”

“Oh, you mean sex? I suppose he could have but he didn’t. The affair ended by mutual consent. No, he simply wanted to retain the letters as a way of keeping the affair’s memory fresh. He said once that he intended to save them for his old age. Something to read when reading was the only thing left for him.”

“I suppose it beats Louis Auchincloss.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing. So he kept your letters.”

“And the photographs.”

“Photographs?”

“He took pictures a couple of times.”

“Pictures of you?”

“Some of me and some of both of us. He has a Polaroid with a cable shutter release.”

“So he could get some good shots of you verbing his noun.”

“He could and did.”

I straightened up. “Well, we’ve still got a few minutes,” I said, “and I’m pretty good at search-and-destroy missions. If the letters and photos are in this apartment, I bet I can find them.”

“I already found them.”

“Oh?”

“They were in his dresser and it was almost the first place I looked.”

“And where are they now?”

“Down the incinerator.”

“Dust to dust, ashes to ashes.”

“You have a way with words.”

“Thank you. Mission accomplished, eh? You found the letters and pictures, sent them down to be burned or compacted or whatever they do at the Charlemagne, and then you were on your way.”

“That’s right.”

“So how come you were still here when I let myself in?”

“I was on my way out,” she said. “I was heading for the door. I had my hand on the knob when you rang the bell.”

“Suppose it had been Onderdonk.”

“I thought it was. Not when I heard the bell, because why would he ring his own door? Unless he knew I was in his apartment.”

“How’d you get in?”

“He never double-locks the door. I opened it with a credit card.”

“You know how to do that?”

“Doesn’t everybody? All you have to do is watch television and you see them doing it. It’s educational.”

“It must be. The door was double-locked when I tried it. I had to pick the tumblers.”

“I turned the bolt from inside.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Reflex, I guess. I should have put the chain on while I was at it. Then you’d have known somebody was here and you wouldn’t have come in, would you?”

“Probably not, and you wouldn’t have had a chance to bring your fantasy to life.”

“That’s a point.”

“But suppose instead of me it had been Onderdonk. Would you have verbed him on the carpet or hauled him off to the bedroom?”

She sighed. “I don’t know. I guess I would have told him what I’d done. I think he probably would have laughed about it. As I said, we parted on good terms. But he was a big man and he had a temper, and that’s why I was scrunched up against the wall hoping for a way to get out without being seen. And knowing it was impossible, but not knowing what else to do.”

“What happened to the painting?”

She blinked at me. “Huh?”

“There. Over the fireplace.”

She looked. “He had a painting hanging there, didn’t he? Of course he did. You can see the outline.”

“A Mondrian.”

“Of course, what am I thinking of? His Mondrian. Oh. You came here to steal his Mondrian!”

“I just wanted to look at it. The museums all close around six and I had a sudden urge to bask in the inner glow of great art.”

“And here I thought you just hit this apartment at random. But you were here for the Mondrian.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. You know, he said something about that painting. It was a while ago. I wonder if I can remember what it was.”

“Take your time.”

“Isn’t there an exhibition forming of Mondrian’s work? Either Mondrian or the whole De Stijl school of abstract painting. They wanted Gordon to lend them his Mondrian.”

“And they picked it up this afternoon?”

“Why, is that when it left its spot on the wall? If you knew it was gone this afternoon, why did you come for it tonight?”

“I don’t know when it left. I just know it was here yesterday.”

“How do you know that? Never mind, I don’t think you want to tell me that. I may not remember this correctly-I wasn’t paying too much attention-but I think Gordon was having the painting reframed for the exhibition. He had it framed in aluminum like the rest of the ones here and he wanted some other kind of frame that would enclose the canvas without covering up its edges. Mondrian was one of those painters who continue the design of the painting right around the sides of the canvas, and Gordon wanted that part to show because it was technically part of the work, but he didn’t want to display a completely unframed canvas. I don’t know how he was going to have it done, but, well, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what happened to the painting. What time is it?”

“Ten minutes past one.”

“I have to go. Whether he’s coming back or not, I have to go. Are you going to steal anything else? Other paintings or anything else you can find?”

“No. Why?”

“I just wondered. Do you want to leave first?”

“Not particularly.”

“Oh?”

“It’s my chivalrous nature. Not just the old principle of ladies first, but I’d worry about you forever if I didn’t know you got out safely. How are you going to get out, by the way?”

“I won’t even need my credit card. Oh, you mean how’ll I get out of the building? The same way I got in. I’ll ride down in the elevator, smile sweetly, and let the doorman get me a cab.”

“Where do you live?”

“A cab ride away.”

“So do I, but I think we should take separate cabs. You don’t want to tell me where you live.”

“Not really, no. I don’t think it’s a good idea to tell burglars my home address. You might make off with the family silver.”

“Not since the price drop. It’s barely worth stealing these days. Suppose I wanted to see you again?”

“Just keep opening doors. You never know what you’ll find on the other side.”

“Isn’t that the truth? Could be the lady, could be the tiger.”

“Could be both.”

“Uh-huh. You’ve got sharp claws, incidentally.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

“I wasn’t objecting, just commenting. I don’t even know your name.”

“Just think of me as the Dragon Lady.”

“I didn’t notice anything draggin’. My name is Bernie.”

She cocked her head, gave the matter some thought. “Bernie the Burglar. I don’t suppose there’s any harm in your knowing my first name, is there?”

“Besides, you could always make one up.”

“Is that what you just did? But I couldn’t. I never lie.”

“I understand that’s the best policy.”

“That’s what I’ve always heard. My name is Andrea.”

“Andrea. You know what I’d like to do, Andrea? I’d like to throw you right back down on the old Aubusson and have my way with you.”

“My, that doesn’t sound bad at all. If we had world enough and time, but we really don’t. I don’t, anyway. I have to get out of here.”

“It would be nice,” I said, “if there were a way I could get in touch with you.”

“The thing is I’m married.”

“But occasionally indiscreet.”

“Occasionally. But discreetly indiscreet, if you get my drift. Now if you were to tell me how to get in touch with you-”

“Uh.”

“You see? You’re a burglar and you don’t want to run the risk that I’ll get an attack of conscience or catch a bad case of the crazies and go to the police. And I don’t want to run a similar sort of risk. Maybe we should just leave it as is, ships that pass in the night, all that romantic stuff. That way we’re both safe.”

“You could be right. But sometime down the line we might decide the risk’s worth running, and then where would we be? You know what the saddest words of tongue or pen are.”

“‘It might have been.’ You’re witty, but John Greenleaf was Whittier.”