Part 120 (2/2)

”Which way do you go, please?” asked Arabian.

”I'll go your way if you like. I live in St. James's Palace. But I'm in no hurry. Do you live in my direction?”

”Oh, no. I live quite near in Chelsea.”

”I can walk to your door then if you don't mind having my company,” said Sir Seymour.

”Thank you!”

And they walked on together in silence. Sir Seymour wondered what was pa.s.sing in the mind of the man beside him. He felt sure that Arabian had been at first suspicious of him in the studio. Had he been able by his manner to lull that suspicion to rest? He was inclined to believe so.

But it was impossible for him to be sure. After two or three minutes of silence he spoke again. But he made no allusion to the recent scene in the studio, or to Garstin's parting words. His instinct counselled silence on that point. So he talked of London, the theatres, the affairs of the day, trying to seem natural, like a man of the world with a casual acquaintance. He noticed that Arabian's answers and comments were brief. Sometimes when he did speak he spoke at random. It was obvious that he was preoccupied. He seemed to Sir Seymour to be brooding darkly over something. This state of things continued until they reached Rose Tree Gardens.

”This is it,” said Arabian, stopping before the big porch.

Sir Seymour stopped, too, hesitated, then said:

”I'll say good night to you.”

Arabian shot a piercing and morose glance at him, moved his right hand as if about to extend it, dropped it and said:

”Well, but we have not spoken any more about my picture!”

”No.”

”d.i.c.k Garstin said you would decide.”

”Scarcely that--was it?”

”But I think it was.”

”Well, but it's really not my affair.”

”But he made it so.”

”Perhaps. But you didn't say--”

”But I should like to know what you think.”

”Very good of you. But I'm an outsider. I wasn't there when you made what you say was a bargain.”

”No, but--”

Again he sent a piercing glance to Sir Seymour, who received it with absolute sangfroid, and stood looking completely detached, firm and simple. At that moment Sir Seymour felt positive that a struggle was going on in Arabian in which the drink he had taken was playing a part.

The intensely suspicious nature of the enemy of society, always on the alert, because always liable to be in danger, was at odds with the demon that steals away the wits of men, unchains their recklessness, unlocks their tongues, uncovers often their most secret inclinations. Arabian was hesitating. At that moment the least thing would turn him one way or the other, would prompt him to give himself to the intense caution which was probably natural to him, or would drive him to the incaution which he would regret when he was physically normal again. It seemed to Sir Seymour that he knew this, and that he had it in his power just then to turn the scale, to make it drop to whichever side he wished. And as Arabian hesitated at that moment so Sir Seymour hesitated too. He longed to get away from the man, to have done with him forever. But he had put his hand to a task. He had here an opportunity. Garstin had certainly given it to him deliberately. It would be weak not to take advantage of it. He was not accustomed to yield to his weak inclinations, and he resolved not to do so now. He was sure that if he showed the least sign of wis.h.i.+ng to push himself into Arabian's affairs the man would recoil at once, in spite of the drink which was slightly, but definitely, clouding his perceptions. So he took the contrary course. He forced himself to hold out his hand to the beast, and said:

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