The scent of the flowers and a cool breeze were delightful after London. He wandered round the house like a nocturnal cat, and came to the dining-room window. He stopped dead. Yes; he would have another look, while the others were busy.
Returning to the house he went to the dining-room and turned on the electric light. Sir James was staring down at him from over the mantelpiece. He lit a cigarette and sat on the edge of the table, gazing keenly at the portrait. He sat there motionless, in thought. He had an unusually keen sense and he felt, rather than saw, that someone had come into the room. He made no sign. A quiet voice at his elbow said, “It’s a very good likeness, and cleverly painted, isn’t it?” He turned without haste. Allery was standing beside him with an inscrutable smile on his face.
“I came to look for you as we have finished, and I thought you might like a nightcap before turning in.”
“Thanks, I will come along,” said Collins. “I never saw Sir James to speak to. He had a remarkable face. A strange mixture of hardness and sympathy. The mouth is hard as a rock, but the eyes are sympathetic.”
“You are a student of these things, of course,” said the lawyer. “But you are quite right. He was a contradiction, but his intellect always ruled his emotions.”
“Was his son anything like him?”
“In character, yes; in face he was too young to say. He was undeveloped.”
Collins turned out the light and they went to join the others.
Chapter XI.
An Apparition
The next three days passed outwardly in the usual enjoyments of a country house-party. They golfed and motored and played tennis. Behind the scenes many things were happening.