"You're all on edge to-night, Blairsy. What's the matter?"
"Nothing, and I'm not."
"Oh, yes, you are," Knight went on. "But, of course, it's nervousness about the competition. What'll either of you boys do if the other gets the prize?"
"Congratulate him," said Thorpe, but there was not much ring of earnestness in his tone.
Blair looked at him moodily, and Knight rose to go.
"You chaps are out of sorts, and I'll not see you again till the prize business is settled. Then I hope you'll be your own sweet sunny selves once more. Good night."
He went off, and the other two began a desultory conversation. It lagged, however, and soon they separated for the night.
Nobody in the Leonardo Studio apartments was an early riser. For that reason it was nearly eleven o'clock when Thorpe, his face very white, telephoned downstairs and asked the doorman to come up at once.
When Hastings appeared he found Thorpe sitting on the edge of a chair in the studio in a state of agitation.