Balnillo’s jaw dropped.
“I have just met a messenger on the road,” said the other; “he has brought news that my grandmother is taken ill, and I must hurry home. It is most unfortunate, most disappointing; but go I must.”
“Tut, tut, tut!” exclaimed the old man, clicking his tongue against his teeth and forgetting to hope, as politeness decreed he should, that the matter was not serious.
“It is a heart-attack,” said Archie.
“Tut, tut,” said Balnillo again. “I am most distressed to hear it; I am indeed.”
“I may be able to come back and finish the picture later.”
“I hope so. I sincerely hope so. I was just studying the admirable likeness when you came in,” said Balnillo, who would have given a great deal to know how much of his posturing Flemington had seen.
“Ah, my lord!” cried Archie, “a poor devil like me has no chance with you! I saw the mirror in your hand. We painters use a piece of looking-glass to correct our drawing, but it is few of our sitters who know that trick.”
Guilty dismay was chased by relief across Balnillo’s countenance.
“You are too clever for me!” laughed Flemington. “How did you learn it, may I ask?”