She shook her head and rose regretfully to her feet.
“It has been delightful,” she admitted, “but after all it is eleven o’clock.”
They strolled along the deck. Suddenly he gripped her by the arm. They were passing his stateroom. Perkins was moving about and the light was lit. He pointed in through the wide-open door, only a few feet away.
“Let me show you my evil genius,” he begged.
She hesitated for a moment. Then, with the steward smilingly standing on one side for her to enter, her hesitation seemed ridiculous. She crossed the threshold as Perkins disappeared with a suave good night. Gregory stood by her side and pointed to the Image. She gave a little gasp. For several moments neither of them spoke. They both gazed at it intently; Claire with wondering horror; Gregory fighting against some sympathetic suggestion in the cynical brutality of the thick mocking lips.
“What a ghastly thing to own,” she cried.
The hand which had been holding her arm was suddenly round her waist.
“Look at it by moonlight,” he whispered in her ear.
The forefinger of his other hand touched the switch. They were almost in darkness. His eyes suddenly seemed to be blazing into hers. She felt the burning of his lips even as they drew near. There was something sweet but vaguely evil in his tone.
“Claire, you are adorable!”