Part 117 (2/2)
”Oh, she's found him out at last, has she, and put you up to--”
Garstin paused. Then he added:
”It's like Beryl's cheek to ask a man of your type to interfere in such a matter. Fellows like Arabian are hardly in your line.”
”Oh, I've had to deal with men of all cla.s.ses.”
”And quite able to, I should say. So Beryl's had enough of that chap?”
”Mr. Garstin, I am going to be frank with you, frank to this extent.
Arabian is a blackguard.”
”No news to me!”
”Miss Van Tuyn can have no further acquaintance with him, and I am going to do my best to see to that. But I believe this fellow is very persistent.”
”I should say so. He's a hard nut to crack. You may depend on that.”
”And therefore strong measures may be necessary.”
”Whom do you want to bring here to look at my stuff?”
”Two or three officials from Scotland Yard.”
Garstin uttered the thrush's song through half-closed lips.
”That's it! Well, you can bring them along whenever you like.”
”Thank you. They may not be art experts, but they, or one of them, may possibly be useful for my purpose.”
”Right you are! So you know something definite about the fellow?”
”Yes.”
”Don't bother yourself! I don't want to know what it is,” snapped out Garstin abruptly.
Sir Seymour smiled, and it was almost what Lady Sellingworth called his ”beaming” smile. He got up and held out his hand.
”Thank you,” he said.
Garstin gave him a strong grip.
”Glad I've met you!” he said. ”Beryl's done me a good turn.”
”Perhaps you will allow me to say--though I'm no expert, and my opinion may therefore have no value in your eyes--but you've painted a portrait such as one very seldom sees nowadays.”
”D'you mean you think it's fine?”
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