December Love Part 121

"Well--good-night!"

But Arabian did not take his hand.

"Oh, but please come in for a moment!" he said. "Why go away?"

"It's getting late."

"But I will not keep you long. d.i.c.k Garstin said you should judge between us, that I was to come to-morrow and tell him. I know you will say I have the right. Come up. I will explain to you."

"Very well," said Sir Seymour, with apparent reluctance, "but really I must not stay long."

"No, no! You are very good. It is not your business. But really it is important. Here! We will take the elevator."

As he got into the lift Sir Seymour wondered whether he would have tricked Arabian if the latter had not been drinking. While the lift was going swiftly and smoothly up he decided that before he came down in it he would make quite plain to Arabian why he had been to d.i.c.k Garstin's studio that day. The opportunity which was given to him he would take advantage of to the full. If only he could strike a blow for Adela instead of for Miss Van Tuyn! But Adela had let this brute go. And could she have done anything else? For she had had her own folly to be afraid of. But all that was ten years ago. And now--She was different now!

He reiterated that to himself as he stood in the lift almost touching Arabian. Adela was quite different now. She had given herself to the best that was in her.

"Here it is!"

The lift had stopped. They got out on a landing, and Arabian put a key into a door.

"Do please take off your coat. It is all warm in here!"

"Yes, and some brute's been burning scent in a shovel!" thought Sir Seymour, as he stepped into the flat.

"I think I'll keep my coat," he said. "I shan't be staying long."

"Oh, if you are in such a hurry!" said Arabian, with sudden moody irritation.

He shut the door with a bang. In the electric light he looked tired and menacing. At least Sir Seymour thought so. But the light in the little hall was shaded and not very strong.

"You will be much too hot truly!" said Arabian.

"Then I'll leave my coat," said Sir Seymour.

And he took it off, laid it on a chair and went into a room on the left, the door of which Arabian held open.

"This is my salon. I take the flat furnished. The river is there."

He pointed towards the windows now covered by curtains.

"Please sit down by the fire. I will explain. I know you will be on my side."

He pressed a bell on the right of the mantelpiece.

Almost instantaneously the door was opened and a thin man--who looked about thirty, Sir Seymour thought--showed himself. He had a very dark narrow face and curiously light-grey eyes. Arabian spoke to him in Spanish. He listened, motionless, turned and went softly out.

"You must have a little whisky with me!" said Arabian.

"No, thank you!"

"But--why not?"

"I never take it at this time."

"Well, I must have some. I have got a cold. This climate in winter--it is awful!"

He shook his broad shoulders and blinked rapidly several times, then suddenly opened his eyes very wide and yawned.

"Well now!" he said. "But please sit down."

Sir Seymour sat down. Arabian stood with his back to the fire and his hands thrust into his trouser pockets. Sir Seymour noticed what a magnificently made man he was. He had certainly been endowed with physical gifts for the undoing of women. But his brown face, strikingly handsome though it undoubtedly was, had the hard stamp of vice on it.

Long ago at a first glance Sir Seymour had seen that this man was a wrong 'un, and now, as he looked at Arabian, he found himself wondering how anyone could fail to see that.

"Now I will tell you exactly," Arabian said.

And he explained carefully and lucidly enough--though through occasional yawns--what had happened between Garstin and himself. He did not mention Miss Van Tuyn's name. As he was getting towards the end of his narrative his servant came in with a tray on which were bottles and gla.s.ses. He said nothing and Arabian said nothing to him, but went on talking and did not appear to notice him. But directly he had gone Arabian poured out some whisky, added a little soda and drank it.

"There! That is how we did!" he said at last.

And he dropped softly, with an odd lightness, into a chair near Sir Seymour, and nodded:

"Now, have I not the right over the picture? Can I not send to-morrow and take it away? Is it not just?"

"Just!" said Sir Seymour. "Do you care so much about justice?"

"Eh?" said Arabian, suddenly leaning forward in his chair. "What is that?"

The bitter sarcasm which Sir Seymour had not been able to keep out of his voice had evidently startled Arabian.

"You are English," he said, as Sir Seymour said nothing. "Do you not care that a stranger in your country should have justice?"

"Oh, yes. I care very much about that."

The intense dryness of the voice that answered evidently made an impression on Arabian. For he fixed his eyes on his guest with intense and hard inquiry, and laid his brown hands on the arms of his chair, as if in readiness for something. But he only said:

"Well--please?"

Sir Seymour's inclination was to get up. But he did not obey it. He sat without moving, and returned Arabian's stare with a firm, soldier's gaze. The fearlessness of his eyes was absolute, unflinching.

"I thoroughly understand why you don't want Mr. Garstin to show people that picture," he said.

"Ah!"

"The biggest fool in creation, if he saw it, would understand."

"Understand what--please?"

"Understand you."