Now I feel that it would be unbecoming on my part to tax a young lady with so mean an act as that of listening; nevertheless, each of the gentlemen in the studio thought proper to speak in so loud and indeed so pompous a voice that Miss Algernon could not avoid overhearing them. It was surely natural, then, that when Mr. Stanmore's name was brought into the colloquy she should have drawn nearer the door of the partition, and--well--not tried to avoid overhearing as much as possible of their dialogue.
The action of the farce amused her at first. It was soon to become interesting, exciting, terrible, even to the verge of tragedy.
"That makes my task easier," continued Mr. Ryfe. "He has explained, of course, the tendency of my instructions, the object of my visit. It only remains for us to fix time and place."
"He has explained nothing," answered the painter. "What is it you complain of, and of what nature is the dispute between Lord Bearwarden and my friend?"
Tom assumed an air of extreme candour, and opened his case artfully enough; but, forgetting that every painter is necessarily a physiognomist, omitted the precaution of turning his back to the light.
"You are on intimate terms with Mr. Stanmore, I believe," said he. "Yet in matters of so delicate a nature men of honour keep their own counsel very closely. It is possible you may not be aware of much in his daily life that you would disapprove--much that, under the circumstances, though I am no rigid moralist, appears inexcusable even to me."
How white that delicate face turned in the next room! How eagerly those dark eyes seemed trying to pierce the blank panels of the door!
"I have known Mr. Stanmore several years," answered the painter. "I have seen him almost every day of late. I can only say you must be more explicit, Mr. Ryfe. I do not understand you yet."
"Do you mean to tell me you are ignorant of an entanglement, a liaison, a most untoward and unfortunate attachment, existing between Mr. Stanmore and a lady whose name I fear it will be impossible to keep out of the discussion?"
A wild misgiving, not altogether painful, shot through the painter while he thought of Nina; but, watching the speaker's face, as was his wont, and detecting a disparity of expression between eyes and mouth, he gathered that the man was trying to deceive him in some particular--not speaking the whole truth.