im as if
to see whether he were worthy. Then she said soberly:

"Yes, Dick."

"Then let's turn the damned epitaph with its hole to the wall!"

And he lifted what remained of Arabian's portrait from the easel and
threw it into a dark corner of the studio.

CHAPTER XVIII

One evening, some ten days later, before any rumour of Lady
Sellingworth's new decision had gone about in the world of London,
before even Braybrooke knew, on coming home from the Foreign Office
Craven found a note lying on the table in the tiny hall of his flat. He
picked it up and saw Miss Van Tuyn's handwriting. He had not seen either
her or Lady Sellingworth since the evening when they had met in the
_Bella Napoli_. Both women had come into his life together. And it
seemed to him that both had gone out of it together. His acquaintance,
or friendship, with them had been a short episode in his pilgrimage, and
apparently the episode was definitely over.

But now--here was a letter from the beautiful girl! He took it up,
carried it into his sitting-room, and tore open the envelope.

"CLARIDGE'S.

"Thursday.

"MY DEAR MR. CRAVEN,--I am going back to Paris almost directly and
should very much like to see you if possible to say good-bye. Have you a
few minutes to spare any time? If so, do come round to the hotel and let
us have a last little talk.--Yours sincerely,

"BERYL VAN TUYN."

When he had read this brief note Craven was struck, as he had been
struck when he had read Lady Sellingworth's letter to him, by a certain
finality in the wording. Good-bye--a last little talk! Miss Van Tuyn
might have put "au revoir," might have omitted the word "last."

He looked at the clock. It was not very late--only half-past five. He
decided to go at once to the hotel. And he went. Miss Van Tuyn was at
home. He went up in the lift and was shown into her sitting-room. He
waited there for a few minutes. Then the door opened and she came in
smiling.

"How good of you to come so soon! I hardly expected you."

"But--why not?" he said, as he took her hand.

She glanced at him inquiringly, he thought, then said:

"Oh, I don't know! You're a busy man, and have lots of engagements. Let
us sit by the fire."

"Yes."

They sat down, and there was a moment of silence. For once Miss Van Tuyn
seemed slightly embarrassed--not quite at her ease. Craven did not help
her. He still remembered the encounter in Glebe Place with a feeling of
anger. He still fe