"I told my man to copy a portrait of Alva."
"Ah, that's right," said Kitty, nodding—"that's right. Only it would have been better if it had been Torquemada."
Rather nettled, Cliffe asked what there might be about him that so forcibly suggested the Grand Inquisitor. Kitty, cigarette in hand, with half-shut eyes, did not answer immediately. She seemed to be perusing his face with difficulty.
"Strength, I suppose," she said at last, slowly. Cliffe waited, then burst into a laugh.
"And cruelty?" She nodded.
"Who are my victims?"
She said nothing.
"Whose tales have you been listening to, Lady Kitty?"
She mentioned the name of a French lady. Cliffe changed countenance.
"Ah, well, if you have been talking to her," he said, haughtily, "you may well expect to see me appear as Diabolus in person."