Part 114 (2/2)

It was awful to discuss such a situation as hers when the milkman had scarcely finished his rounds, and when her vitality had not been warmed up.

”Do sit down, Sir Seymour!” she said.

”Thank you!”

And he sat down in a businesslike sort of way, and at once began.

”Rather late last night I saw Lady Sellingworth.”

”Oh? Yes?”

”She sent for me. You know why, I understand.”

”Yes. I had been with her.”

”She told me the whole matter.”

”Oh! Did she? I--I've been awfully foolish. I deserve to--I deserve everything. I know that. Adela has been so good to me. I can never say how good. She might so easily have--I mean considering the way I have--”

She stopped. Adela could not have told Sir Seymour about the unkindness of the girl she had sent him to help. Miss Van Tuyn remembered that just in time.

”Lady Sellingworth did what you wished,” said Sir Seymour, still in a quiet and businesslike way, ”and consulted me. She told me what you wanted; that this man, Arabian, should be made to understand that he must finally give up any plans he had formed with regard to you.”

Miss Van Tuyn felt the red beginning to creep in her cheeks.

”Yes,” she said, looking down.

”Perhaps this can be done,” continued Sir Seymour, in a practical way, rather like a competent man at a board meeting. ”We must see.”

He did not suggest that she could do it herself. She was thankful to him for that.

”Have you a photograph of this man?” he continued.

”Oh--no!”

”That is a pity.”

”But why do you want--”

”I should like to have his photograph to show at Scotland Yard.”

”Oh!” she exclaimed.

Her face was scarlet now. Her forehead was burning. An acute and horrible sense of shame possessed her, seemed to be wrapped round her like a stinging garment.

”I've--I've never had a photograph of him,” she said.

After a short pause Sir Seymour said:

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