The novelist gave particular attention to his pipe which did not seem to be behaving properly.
The artist answered shortly, "No."
"I'd certainly make her acquaintance, if I were you," said Rutlidge, with his suggestive smile. "She is a dream. A delightful little retreat--that studio of yours."
The painter, puzzled by the man's words and by his insinuating air, returned coldly, "It does very well for a work-shop."
The other laughed meaningly; "Yes, oh yes--a great little work-shop. I suppose you--ah--do not fear to trust your art treasures to the Chinaman, during your absence?"
Conrad Lagrange--certain, now, that the man had seen Sibyl Andrés either entering or leaving the studio--said abruptly, "You need give yourself no concern for Mr. King's studio, Rutlidge. I can assure you that the treasures there will be well protected."
James Rutlidge understood the warning conveyed in the novelist's words that, to Aaron King, revealed nothing.
"Really," said the painter to their caller, "you are not uneasy for the safety of Mrs. Taine's portrait, are you, old man? If you are, of course--"
"Damn Mrs. Taine's portrait!" ejaculated the man, rising hurriedly. "You know what I mean. It's all right, of course. I must be going. Hope you have a good outing and come back to find all your art treasures safe." He laughed coarsely, as he went down the walk.
When the automobile was gone, the artist turned to his friend. "Now what in thunder did he mean by that? What's the matter with him? Do you suppose they imagine that there is anything wrong because I wouldn't turn over the picture?"