Part 53 (1/2)
”So I have!”
She did not ask him what he had been doing. He would probably refuse to tell her. Instead she remarked:
”Will you be able to paint?”
”Probably not. But perhaps the fellow won't come.”
”Why not. He always--” She stopped; then said quickly, ”So he was up all night too?”
”Yes.”
”I didn't know you knew him out of the studio.”
”Of course I know him wherever I meet him. What do you mean?”
”I didn't know you did meet him.”
Garstin said nothing. She turned and went up the staircase to the big studio. On an easel nearly in the middle of the room, and not very far from the portrait of the judge, there was a sketch of Nicolas Arabian's head, neck and shoulders. No collar or clothes were shown. Garstin had told Arabian flatly that he wasn't going to paint a magnificent torso like his concealed by infernal linen and serge, and Arabian had been quite willing that his neck and shoulders should be painted in the nude.
In the strong light of the studio Garstin's unusual appearance of fatigue was more noticeable, and Miss Van Tuyn could not help saying:
”What on earth have you been doing, d.i.c.k? You always seem made of iron.
But to-day you look like an ordinary man who has been dissipating.”
”I played poker all night,” said Garstin.
”With Arabian?”
”And two other fellows--picked them up at the Cafe Royal.”
”Well, I hope you won.”
”No, I didn't. Both Arabian and I lost a lot. We played here.”
”Here!”
”Yes. And I haven't had a wink since they left. I don't suppose he'll turn up. And if he does I shan't be able to do anything at it.”
He went to stand in front of the sketch, which was in oils, and stared at it with lack-l.u.s.tre eyes.
”What d'you think of it?” he said at last.
Miss Van Tuyn was rather surprised by the question. Garstin was not in the habit of asking other people's opinions about his work.
”It's rather difficult to say,” she said, with some hesitation.
”That means you think it's rotten.”
”No. But it isn't finished and--I don't know.”