"But," Arnold persisted, "I don't understand how you got in! You know that I am glad to see you."
"I got in with Ruth's key, of course," Sabatini replied.
Arnold leaned against the back of the sofa.
"I had forgotten," he said. "Of course, if I had known that you had been coming, I would have been here. The accountant brought in the result of our last six months' work this afternoon, and Mr. Jarvis insisted upon a little celebration. We had dinner together."
Sabatini nodded.
"So you have been successful," he remarked, thoughtfully. "You kept your feet along the narrow way and you have done well. I am glad. Sit down here by my side."
Arnold sat down on the end of the sofa. The curtain was pulled up as far as it would go. Below them, the curving arc of lights stretched away to the dim distance. Sabatini followed them with his eyes, for a moment, as though he, too, found something inspiring in that lighted way. Then he turned to Arnold with a queer little twinkle in his eyes.
"By the bye," he asked, "you haven't heard—Fenella hasn't told you of the last turn in fortune's wheel?"
"I have seen little of Mrs. Weatherley lately," Arnold murmured.
Sabatini leaned back in his place. His hollow eyes were lit now with laughter, his mouth twitched. The marks of his illness seemed almost to pass.