d not see him at home. Was he
the eternal traveller, with plenty of money, a taste for luxury and
the wandering spirit? Or had he some purpose which drove him about the
world?

After Craven had left her that day at Claridge's she had a sudden wish
to bring him and Craven together, to see how they got on together, to
hear Craven's opinion of Arabian. Perhaps she could manage a meeting
between the two men presently. Why not?

Arabian had not attempted to make love to her on either of the two
occasions when she had been with him alone. Only his eyes had seemed to
tell her that he admired her very much, that he wanted something of her.
His manner had been noncommittal. He had seemed to be on his guard.

There was something in Arabian which suggested to Miss Van Tuyn
suspicion. He was surely a man who, despite his "open" look, his bold
features, his enormously self-possessed manner, was suspicious of
others. He had little confidence in others. She was almost certain of
that. There was nothing cat-like in his appearance, yet at moments when
with him she thought of a tomcat, of its swiftness, suppleness, gliding
energies and watchful reserve. She suspected claws in his velvet, too.
And yet surely he looked honest. She thought his look was honest, but
that his "atmosphere" was not. Often he had a straight look--she could
not deny that to herself. He could gaze at you and let you return his
gaze. And yet she had not been able to read what he was in his eyes.

He was not very easy to get on with somehow, although there was a great
deal of charm in his manner and although he was full of self-confidence
and evidently accustomed to women. But to what women was he accustomed?
That was a question which Miss Van Tuyn asked herself. Craven was
obviously at home in the society of ordinary ladies and of women of the
world. You knew that somehow directly you were with him. But--Arabian?

Miss Van Tuyn could see him with smart _cocottes_. He would surely be
very much at ease with them. And many of them would be ready to adore
such a man. For there was probably a strain of brutality somewhere under
his charm. And they would love that. She could even see him, or fancied
that she could, with street women. For there was surely a touch of the
street in him. He must have been bred up in cities. He did not belong
to any fields or any woods that she knew or knew of. And--other women?
Well, she was numbered among those other women. And how was h