"H—m—m!" said Leighton.
Le Brux held up a ponderous hand.
"Not too fast," he said. "The lady assures me the babe is still on the bottle. Such being the case, I sent for you. They are inseparable. They have put off falling in love so long that, when they do, it will prove a catastrophe for one of them. Take him away for a while. Distort his concentrated point of view."
"That's a good idea," said Leighton. "Perhaps I will."
"As for his work—" Le Brux stepped to the door and locked it. "I wouldn't have him catch us looking at it for anything." He lifted the damp cloth from Lewis's latest bit of modeling, two tense hands, long fingers curved like talons, thumbs bent in. They flashed to the eye the impression of terrific action.
Leighton gazed long at the hands.
"So," he said, "somewhere the boy has seen a murder."
"Ha!" cried Le Brux. "You see it? You see it? He has not troubled to put the throat within that grip but it's there. Ah, it's there! I could see it. You see it. Presto! everybody will see it." He replaced the cloth.
"In a couple of years," he went on, "my work will be done. Let him show nothing, know nothing, till, then."