A flash of lightning made Charles blink. There was the scrape of a chair. Duval had sprung up, and was staring- towards the window. "What was that," he gasped. "What was that, m'sieur? A face? A face pressed to the glass?"
"Nonsense," Charles said calmly. "It was nothing but that sunflower blown against the window. Look!"
The sweat stood on Duval's forehead. "Truly? Yes, yes, I see. It was nothing. Yet for a moment I could have sworn I saw - something. It is this accursed storm. I do not like the lightning. It makes me what you call on edge. Sometimes I fear I have not the courage to go on with what I have made up my mind I must do to be free. For when I am here with the darkness I remember that other who died." He went to the cupboard and opened it, and pulled out a whisky bottle, half-full, and two thick glasses, "You will take a little drink with me? This storm - one's nerves demand it."
"Not for me, thanks," Charles answered. "May I suggest that if you've reason to think someone is watching you your best course is to inform the police."
Duval cast a quick, furtive look at him. The whisky spilled into his glass. He tossed it off, neat, and seemed to regain what little composure he possessed. "No, I do not do that. You will not listen to me: I talk folly, hein? Me, I am Louis Duval, and I am not afraid."
The rain had practically ceased by now, and Charles got up. "Then since the storm seems to be passing over you won't mind if I say good-bye, will you?" He picked up the picture he had bought. "I shall - er - value this, I assure you. And if at any time you'd like to take me rather more into your confidence you know where I'm to be found, don't you?"
"I thank you. And for this' - he held up Charles' cheque - "I thank you also." With his self-command his arrogance too was creeping back. "The day comes when you will congratulate yourself that you were once able to buy a picture of Louis Duval's for so small a price."
That view was not shared either by Charles, or by any of his relatives. When he exhibited the painting at the Priory an astonished silence greeted it.
"Yes," he said blandly, "I thought you'd be hard put to it to find words to express your emotions."
Peter breathed audibly through his nose. "You were right," he said.