“But I will not keep you long. Dick Garstin said you should judge between us, that I was to come to-morrow and tell him. I know you will say I have the right. Come up. I will explain to you.”
“Very well,” said Sir Seymour, with apparent reluctance, “but really I must not stay long.”
“No, no! You are very good. It is not your business. But really it is important. Here! We will take the elevator.”
As he got into the lift Sir Seymour wondered whether he would have tricked Arabian if the latter had not been drinking. While the lift was going swiftly and smoothly up he decided that before he came down in it he would make quite plain to Arabian why he had been to Dick Garstin’s studio that day. The opportunity which was given to him he would take advantage of to the full. If only he could strike a blow for Adela instead of for Miss Van Tuyn! But Adela had let this brute go. And could she have done anything else? For she had had her own folly to be afraid of. But all that was ten years ago. And now—She was different now! He reiterated that to himself as he stood in the lift almost touching Arabian. Adela was quite different now. She had given herself to the best that was in her.
“Here it is!”
The lift had stopped. They got out on a landing, and Arabian put a key into a door.
“Do please take off your coat. It is all warm in here!”
“Yes, and some brute’s been burning scent in a shovel!” thought Sir Seymour, as he stepped into the flat.
“I think I’ll keep my coat,” he said. “I shan’t be staying long.”
“Oh, if you are in such a hurry!” said Arabian, with sudden moody irritation.