felt like an actual wrench of the muscles, dragged his
own eyes from the sight to scan the other countenances about the table;
but not one revealed the least consciousness of what he saw, and a sense
of mortal isolation sank upon him.

"It's worth considering, certainly--" he heard Mr. Lavington continue;
and as Rainer's face lit up, the face behind his uncle's chair seemed to
gather into its look all the fierce weariness of old unsatisfied hates.
That was the thing that, as the minutes laboured by, Faxon was becoming
most conscious of. The watcher behind the chair was no longer merely
malevolent: he had grown suddenly, unutterably tired. His hatred seemed
to well up out of the very depths of balked effort and thwarted hopes,
and the fact made him more pitiable, and yet more dire.

Faxon's look reverted to Mr. Lavington, as if to surprise in him a
corresponding change. At first none was visible: his pinched smile was
screwed to his blank face like a gas-light to a white-washed wall. Then
the fixity of the smile became ominous: Faxon saw that its wearer was
afraid to let it go. It was evident that Mr. Lavington was unutterably
tired too, and the discovery sent a colder current through Faxon's
veins. Looking down at his untouched plate, he caught the soliciting
twinkle of the champagne glass; but the sight of the wine turned him
sick.

"Well, we'll go into the details presently," he heard Mr. Lavington say,
still on the question of his nephew's future. "Let's have a cigar first.
No--not here, Peters." He turned his smile on Faxon. "When we've had
coffee I want to show you my pictures."

"Oh, by the way, Uncle Jack--Mr. Faxon wants to know if you've got a
double?"

"A double?" Mr. Lavington, still smiling, continued to address himself
to his guest. "Not that I know of. Have you seen one, Mr. Faxon?"

Faxon thought: "My God, if I look up now they'll _both_ be looking at
me!" To avoid raising his eyes he made as though to lift the glass to
his lips; but his hand sank inert, and he looked up. Mr. Lavington's
glance was politely bent on him, but with a loosening of the strain
about his heart he saw that the figure behind the chair still kept its
gaze on Rainer.

"Do you think you've seen my double, Mr. Faxon?"

Would the other face turn if he said yes? Faxon felt a dryness in his
throat. "No," he answered.

"Ah? It's possible I've a dozen. I believe I'm extremely usual-looking,"
Mr. Lavington went on conversational