ether Garstin admired her head or not.

"I shall not take off my hat," she said brusquely. "I don't intend to
stay unless there is the reason which I expected and which induced me to
come here. Have you seen that remarkable-looking man again or not?"

"I have," said Garstin with a mischievous smile.

Miss Van Tuyn looked slightly mollified, but still uncertain.

"Did you speak to him?" she asked.

"I did."

"What did he say?"

"I told him to come along to the studio."

"You did! And--?"

"Why don't you take off your hat?"

"Because it suits me particularly well. Now tell me at once, don't be
malicious and tiresome--are you expecting him?"

"I couldn't say that."

"You are not expecting him!"

"My good girl, we expect from those we rely on. What do I know about
this fellow's character? I told him who I was, and what I wanted with
him, and that I wanted it with him at three this afternoon. He's got the
address. But whether we have any reason to expect him is more than I can
say."

She looked quickly at the watch on her wrist.

"It is past three. I was late."

After an instant of silence she sat down on an old-fashioned sofa
covered with dull green and red silk. Just behind it on an easel stood a
half-finished portrait of the Cora woman, staring with hungry eyes over
an empty tumbler.

"Give me a cigarette, Dick," she said. "Did he say he would come?"

The painter went over to an old Spanish cabinet and rummaged for a box
of cigarettes, with his horsey-looking back turned towards her.

"Did he?" she repeated. "Can't you tell me what happened when you spoke
to him? Why force me to cross-examine you in this indelicate way?"

"Here you are!" said Garstin, turning round with a box of cigarettes.

"Thank you."

"I gave him my name."

"He knew it, of course?"

"He didn't say so. There was no celebrity-start of pleasure. I had to
explain that I occasionally painted portraits and that I wished to make
a study of his damned remarkable head. Upon that he handed me his card.
Here it is."

And Garstin drew out of a side pocket a visiting-card, which he gave to
Miss Van Tuyn.

She read: "Nicolas Arabian."

There was no address in the corner.

"What a curious name!"

She sat gazing at the card and smoking her cigarette.

"Do you know where he is staying?"

"No."

"Did you speak English to him?"

"I did."

"And he spoke good English?"

"Yes, with a foreign accent of some kind."

At this