ied! If I went away I
should only be miserable, and hurry back by the first train. Oh, if
only I could make you understand!" he cried, with a little passionate
gesture, which gained pathos and almost dignity from the expression on
his white, sorrowing face. "Adrea is as necessary to me as the air we
breathe! The sun has no light, and the day no ending, till I have seen
her! She is the measure of all things to me: joy, grief, happiness,
misery, it is her hand that deals them out to me! She can play upon
the chords of my being as she chooses. A look or word from her can
pull me down into hell, or transport me into a seventh heaven! Who
gave her this power, I cannot tell! But she has it! she has it!"

Paul said no more. Perhaps he recognised that, for the present at
any rate, it was useless. He walked up and down the room for a few
minutes, in sympathetic silence. When he spoke again he made no
reference to the subject, but Arthur understood. "Get your things on,
and come out to lunch with me," he said pleasantly. "I am too hungry
to be sympathetic, and we can call at Coutts' on the way."

Arthur nodded and disappeared. Paul took his chair for a while, and,
as he sat there gazing into the fire, his face grew grey and haggard.
Was Adrea Kiros seeking vengeance on the son of her father's murderer?
he wondered. If so, it seemed as though she were indeed succeeding.
How could he save Arthur? and what would happen if those rumours
should reach his mother's ears, as some day they certainly would? At
any rate, he would see Adrea himself before he left London. He had
made up his mind that, if Arthur refused to listen to him, that should
be his course.

Things somehow seemed brighter when they walked down to the club
together. Dress makes so much difference to a man, and Arthur, spruce
and _debonair_, with a gardenia in his button-hole, and every part
of his attire almost "faultily faultless," according to the canons
of London fashion, presented a very different appearance to the
tragical-looking personage of half an hour ago. There was a slight air
of subdued feverishness about him, though, not altogether healthy, and
the dark rims had not quite vanished from underneath his eyes.

"Paul, I wonder whether you will do something for me?" he asked, as
they were crossing Pickadilly. "I hate asking you!"

"I'll try," Paul answered. "What is it?"

"I don't believe you'll like it, but--the fact is, Adrea wants you to
go and see her