Part 117 (1/2)
”Rather! It's the last thing I've done, and not so bad either!”
Sir Seymour got up and went to stand in front of the portrait. He was puzzled, and his face showed that; he frowned and pursed his lips, bending forward.
”This is a portrait of a man called Arabian, isn't it?” he said at length, turning round to Garstin.
”Yes. D'you know the fellow?”
”I haven't that--privilege,” replied Sir Seymour with an extraordinarily dry intonation. ”But I must have seen him somewhere.”
”About town. He's been here some time.”
”But he's altered!” said Sir Seymour, still looking hard at the portrait.
”I'm not a photographer, you know!”
”A photographer!” said Sir Seymour, who was something of a connoisseur in painting, and had a few good specimens of the Barbizon School in his apartment at St. James's Palace. ”No. This isn't a photograph in paint.
It's a”--he gazed again at the portrait--”it's a masterly study of a remarkable and hideous personality.”
”Hideous!” said Garstin sharply.
”Yes, hideous,” said Sir Seymour grimly. ”An abominable face! Ah!”
He had been bending, but now pulled himself up.
”I saw that man at the Ritz Hotel a good many years ago,” he said. ”I was giving a lunch. He was lunching close by with--let me see--an old woman, yes, in a rusty black wig. Someone spoke to me about him, and I--, Yes! I remember it all perfectly. But he looked much younger then. It must be over ten years ago. I spotted him at once as a shady character. One would, of course. But you have brought it all to the surface in some subtle way. Does he like it?”
”To tell the truth I don't believe he does.”
”I wish to speak to you about that man.”
”Sit down again. Have a whisky?”
”No, thanks.”
”What is it? Are the police after him?”
”I'm not aware of it.”
”I know everything about him, as you see”--he shot out an arm towards the portrait--”and nothing. I picked him up at the Cafe Royal. He's a magnificent specimen.”
”No doubt. What I want to know is whether you will allow me to bring two or three people here to see this portrait? I'm doing this--I'm here now, and want to come here again, if you are so kind as to allow me--”
”Always jolly glad to see you!” interjected Garstin, with a sort of gruff heartiness.
”Thank you! I'm doing this for your friend, Miss Beryl Van Tuyn.”
”Ha!” said Garstin.
”I don't think I need to go into the matter further than to say that she does not wish to have anything more to do with this Mr. Arabian.”