in!' And now he is gone, and--and--"

He went up to Garstin and held out his hand.

"I know I don't understand what you feel about this. No one could but a
fellow-painter as big as you are. But I wish I could make you understand
what I feel about something else."

"And what's that?" said Garstin, as he took Sir Seymour's hand, almost
doubtfully.

"About the way you've taken it, and your letting the blackguard off."

"Oh, as to that, I bet you he'll be in Paris by five to-day."

"Just what I think. But still--"

He pressed Garstin's hand, and Garstin returned the pressure.

"Beryl wanted me to paint him, but I painted him to please myself. I'm a
selfish brute, like most painters, I suppose."

"But you're letting him go because of Miss Van Tuyn."

"Damn it, I believe I am. I say, are you ever coming here again?"

"If I may."

"I wish you would."

He gazed at Sir Seymour's strong head.

"I've spent half my life in showing people up on canvas," he said. "I
should like to try something else."

"And what's that?"

"I should like to try to reveal the underneath fine instead of the
underneath filth. It'd be a new experiment for me."

He laughed.

"Perhaps I should make a failure of it. But--if you'd allow me--I would
try to make a start with you."

"I can only say I shall be honoured," said Sir Seymour, with a touch of
almost shamefaced modesty which he endeavoured to hide with a very grave
courtliness. "Please let me know, if you don't change your mind. I'm a
good bit battered, but such as I am I am always at your service--out of
work hours."

His last words to Garstin at the street door were:

"You've taught an old soldier how to take a hard knock."

CHAPTER XVI

Sir Seymour usually called on Lady Sellingworth about five o'clock
in the afternoon when he was not detained by work or inevitable
engagements. On the day of his visit to Garstin's studio with the
inspector he felt that he owed it to Adela to go to Berkeley Square and
to tell her what had happened in connexion with Arabian since he had
last seen her. She must be anxious for news. It was not likely that she
had seen Miss Van Tuyn, that beautiful prisoner in Claridge's hotel.
Miss Van Tuyn might have telephoned to her and told her of his visits to
the hotel. But Adela would certainly expect to see him, would certainly
be waiting for him. He ought to go to her. Since the morning he had
been very busy. He had not had time to call again o