Part 118 (1/2)
”Very fine! Wonderful!”
Garstin's usually hard face softened in an extraordinary way.
”Your opinion goes down in my memory in red letters.”
Sir Seymour turned to go. As he did so he cast a look round the studio, which suggested to Garstin that he would perhaps like to examine the other portraits dotted about on easels and hanging on the walls. A faint reddish line appeared in the painter's shaven blue cheeks.
”Not worth your while!” he almost muttered.
”Eh?” said Sir Seymour.
”A lot of decadent stuff. I've been choosing my models badly. But--” he paused, looking almost diffident for a moment.
”Yes?” said Sir Seymour.
”Perhaps, if we ever get to know each other a bit better, you'd let me have a shy at you for a change?”
”That would be an honour,” said Sir Seymour with a touch of his very simple, courtly manner.
”In return you know for my letting in the detectives!” said Garstin, with a laugh. ”Hulloh!”
He had heard the bell ring downstairs.
”If it's our man!” he said, instinctively lowering his voice.
”Arabian! Are you expecting him?”
”No. But it's just as likely as not. Want to meet him?”
”I can hardly say that!” said Sir Seymour, looking suddenly, Garstin thought, remarkably like a very well-bred ramrod.
”Well, then--”
”But it may be necessary.” He hesitated obviously, then added: ”If it should be Arabian by chance, perhaps it would be as well if I did see him.”
”Just as you like.”
”I'll stay if you will allow me,” said Sir Seymour, with sudden decision, like a man who had just overcome something.
The bell rang again.
”Can you act?” said Garstin, quickly.
”Sufficiently, I dare say,” said Sir Seymour, with a very faint and grim smile.
”Then you'd better! He can!”
And Garstin sprang down the stairs. Two or three minutes later Arabian walked into the studio with Garstin just behind him. When he saw Sir Seymour a slight look of surprise came into his face, and he half turned towards Garstin as if in inquiry. Sir Seymour realized that Garstin had not mentioned that there was a visitor in the studio.
”A friend of mine, Sir Seymour Portman,” said Garstin. ”Mr. Nicolas Arabian!”
Arabian bowed and said formally: