"Oh, of course, I am only speaking figuratively," he went on. "I suppose it was really flesh and blood that I saw; but no ghost could have been more startling. I wonder"—speaking as though to himself—"if my sight deceived me; but it was certainly a singular likeness. If I had only had the courage to stop and speak; but when I recollected myself the opportunity had gone—a passing omnibus hindered me—and then I was too late."
"Did you think it was someone you knew?"
"Yes," very curtly—"a friend of my happier days." But he seemed disinclined to say more. He was so silent and moody all dinner-time that Dr. Luttrell looked at him in surprise more than once.
"I suppose you will go straight to your lodgings from Galvaston House," he said, presently; "it will never do for you to be out late, Barton." And Robert Barton assented to this.
"I shall just fetch my bag and one or two things; I do not suppose we shall be long." And then he rose from the table and began putting up his brushes, and then took up a book, which he read upside down, until Olivia was ready to accompany him.
As they crossed the road she said to him, gently:
"I am sorry to see that you are a little out of spirits, and I am afraid this visit may be rather trying—an elderly invalid has all sorts of fads and cranks—but I hope you will be patient." Then Robert Barton smiled pleasantly.
"Oh, yes, I am quite prepared to be regarded as a fraud; but I shall soon prove that Goddard is the cheat in this case." And then they rang the bell, and Phoebe, telling them that her master was still in the dining-room, ushered them into the library.
"Please tell Mr. Gaythorne we are in no hurry," observed Olivia, vexed that they had come so early; but Robert Barton, with one quick glance round the beautiful room, busied himself with placing the pictures in the best possible light.
"There," he said, stepping back with a complacent smile, "I think your old gentleman will own that the same artist painted those two pictures, when he sees them side by side."