Delgado opened another bottle. He carefully poured dimenthyl petone onto a fresh cotton ball and with it touched the first letter of the signature again, instantly applying the second cotton ball. The room was filled with a sharp, pungent odor from the chemicals. Christian Machada stood there staring at the painting, unable to believe what he was seeing. The G in Goya's name was fading, and in its place was a clearly visible L.
Delgado turned to him, his face pale. "Shall--- shall I go on?"
"Yes," Machada said hoarsely. "Go on."
Slowly, letter by letter, Goya's signature faded under the application of the solvent, and the signature of Lucas materialized. Each letter was a blow to Machada's stomach. He, the head of one of the most important museums in the world, had been deceived. The board of directors would hear of it; the King of Spain would hear of it; the world would hear of it. He was ruined.
He stumbled back to his office and telephoned Henri Rendell.
duravit
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