ry famous Mr. Dick Garstin."

"Would you be afraid to be painted by him?" she said.

He cast a sharp glance at her with eyes which looked suddenly vigilant.

"I did not say that."

"He'll be furious if you refuse."

"I see he is accustomed generally to have what he wishes."

"Yes. And he would make a magnificent thing of you. I am certain of
that."

She saw vanity looking out of his eyes, and her vanity felt suddenly
almost strangely at home with it.

"It is a compliment, I know, that he should wish to paint me," said
Arabian. "But why does he?"

The question sounded to Miss Van Tuyn almost suspicious.

"He admires your appearance," she answered. "He thinks you a very
striking type."

"Ah! A type! But what of?"

"He didn't tell me," she answered.

Arabian was silent for a moment; then he said:

"Does Mr. Dick Garstin get high prices for his portraits? Are they worth
a great deal?"

"Yes," she said, with a sudden light touch of disdain, which she could
not forego. "The smallest sketch of a head painted by him will fetch a
lot of money."

"Ah--indeed!"

"Let him paint you! There he is--coming back."

As Garstin reappeared Arabian turned to him with a smile that looked
cordial and yet that seemed somehow wanting in real geniality.

"I have seen them all."

"Have you? Well, let's have a drink."

He went over to the Spanish cabinet and brought out of it a flagon of
old English glass ware, soda-water, and three tall tulip-shaped glasses
with long stems.

"Come on. Let's sit down," he said, setting them down on a table. "I'll
get the cigars. Squat here, Beryl. Here's a chair for you, Arabian. Help
yourselves."

He moved off and returned with a box of his deadly cigars. Arabian took
one without hesitation, and accepted a stiff whisky and soda. While he
had been downstairs Garstin had apparently recovered his good humour, or
had deliberately made up his mind to take a certain line with his guest
from the Cafe Royal. He said nothing about his pictures, made no further
allusion to his wish to paint Arabian's portrait, but flung himself
down, lit a cigar, and began to drink and smoke and talk, very much
as if he were in the bar of an inn with a lot of good fellows. When he
chose Garstin could be human and genial, at times even rowdy. He was
genial enough now, but Miss Van Tuyn, who was very sharp about almost
everything connected with people, thought of a patient's first visit to
a famous specialist,