“What is it? Are the police after him?”
“I’m not aware of it.”
“I know everything about him, as you see”—he shot out an arm towards the portrait—“and nothing. I picked him up at the Cafe Royal. He’s a magnificent specimen.”
“No doubt. What I want to know is whether you will allow me to bring two or three people here to see this portrait? I’m doing this—I’m here now, and want to come here again, if you are so kind as to allow me—”
“Always jolly glad to see you!” interjected Garstin, with a sort of gruff heartiness.
“Thank you! I’m doing this for your friend, Miss Beryl Van Tuyn.”
“Ha!” said Garstin.
“I don’t think I need to go into the matter further than to say that she does not wish to have anything more to do with this Mr. Arabian.”
“Oh, she’s found him out at last, has she, and put you up to—”
Garstin paused. Then he added: