with it. Directly his glass was filled--it was a
long glass--he drank almost greedily.

"A cigar?" said Garstin. "But I know without asking."

"I do not refuse," said Arabian.

And Sir Seymour hated his voice, while realizing that it was agreeable,
perhaps even seductive.

"There! Now we're cozy!" said Garstin. "But I wish Sir Seymour you'd
join us!"

"If you will allow me I will smoke a light cigar I have here."

And Sir Seymour drew out a cigar-case and lit up a pale and long
Havannah.

"That's better!" said Garstin, drinking. "How's Beryl, my boy?"

"I have not seen Miss Van Tuyn to-day," said Arabian. "But I hope to see
her to-morrow."

He looked at Sir Seymour, and there seemed to be a flicker of suspicion
in his eyes.

"DO you know Miss Van Tuyn?" he asked.

"Very slightly," said Sir Seymour. "I have met her once or twice in
London. She is a very beautiful creature."

There was constraint in the room. Sir Seymour felt it strongly and
feared that it came from something in him. Evidently he was not a very
good actor. He found it difficult to be easy and agreeable with a man
whom he longed to get hold of by the collar and thrash till it was time
to hand him over to the police. But he resolved to make a strong effort
to conceal what he could not conquer. And he began to talk to Arabian.
Afterwards he could not remember what they had talked about just then.
He could only remember the strangeness which he had realized as he sat
there smoking his Havannah, the strangeness of life. That he should
be smoking and chatting with the scoundrel who had changed Adela's
existence, who had tricked her, robbed her, driven her into the
solitude which had lasted ten years! And why was he doing it? He did not
absolutely know. But his instinct had told him to stay on in Garstin's
studio when everything else in him, revolting, had shrunk from meeting
this beast, unless and until he could deal with him properly.

He had smoked about half his cigar, and the constraint in the
room seemed to him to be lessened, though not abolished, when the
conversation took a turn quite unexpected by him. And all that was said
in the studio from that moment remained firmly fixed in his memory.
Garstin got up to fetch some more whisky for Arabian, whose glass was
now empty, and as he came back with the decanter he said to Arabian:

"Sir Seymour's had a good look at your portrait, Arabian."

"Indeed!" said Arabian.

"And he thinks it's