CHAPTER VI
Miss Van Tuyn was in Garstin's studio on that day. Although apparentlycalm and self-possessed she was in a condition of acute nervousexcitement. Craven's mention of Glebe Place through the telephone hadstartled her. At once she had understood. People had begun to gossip,and the gossip had reached Craven's ears. She had reddened as she stoodby the telephone. A definite sensation of anxiety mingled with shamehad crept in her. But it had been succeeded by a decisive feeling morereally characteristic of her. As Craven now evidently knew of her closeacquaintance with Arabian the two men should meet. She would conquer herreluctance, and put Arabian to the test with Craven. For a long time shehad wished to know what Craven would think of Arabian; for a long time,too, she had been afraid to know. But now she would hesitate no more.Dick Garstin was to have a sitting from Arabian on the Monday afternoon.It ought to be over about half-past four. She could easily manage toprolong matters in the studio till five, so that Craven might have timeto get to Glebe Place from the Foreign Office. Of course, he might notchoose to come. But if he were really jealous she thought he would come.
Now she was anticipating the coming interview with an uneasiness whichshe could only conceal by a strong effort.
At last, after repeated failures, Garstin was beginning to work withenergy and real satisfaction. Of late he had been almost venomous. Hisimpotence to do what he wished to do had made him more disagreeable,more brutal even than usual. His habitual brusqueness had oftendegenerated into downright rudeness. But suddenly a change had come, oneof those mysterious changes in the mood and powers of an artist whichneither he nor anyone else can understand. Abruptly the force which hadabandoned him had returned.
The change had occurred on the day of Miss Van Tuyn's conversationthrough the telephone with Craven, a Friday.
Arabian had refused to sit on the Saturday and Sunday. He said he wasmoving into his Chelsea flat, and had many things to do. He could notcome to the studio again till the Monday afternoon at half-past two.Garstin had been furious, but he had been met by a will apparently asinflexible as his own.
"I am sorry, but I cannot help it, Dick Garstin," Arabian had said.
And after a pause he had added:
"I hope I have not shown impatience all this long time?"
Garstin had cursed, but he had not persisted. Evidently he had realizedthat persistence would be useless. On the Monday he had received Arabianwith frigid hauteur, but soon he had become intent on his work and hadapparently forgotten his grievance.
Half-past four struck--then the quarter to five. Garstin had beenpainting for more than two hours. Now he put down his brush and frowned,still looking at Arabian, who was sitting in an easy, almost casualposition, with his magnificent brown throat and shoulders exposed.
"Finished!" he said in his loud bass voice.
Miss Van Tuyn, who was curled up on a divan in a corner of the studio,moved and put down a book which she had been pretending to read. Garstinhad forbidden her to come near to him that day while he was painting.
"Finished!" she exclaimed. "Do you mean--"
"No, damn it, I don't!" said Garstin, with exasperation. "I don't! Doyou take me for a magician, or what? I have finished for to-day! Nowthen!"
He began to move the easel. Miss Van Tuyn got up, and Arabian, withoutsaying a word, stretched himself, looked at her steadily for a moment,then pulled up his silk vest and carefully buttoned it with hisstrong-looking fingers. Then he too got up, and went away to thedressing-room to put on his shirt, waistcoat, collar and tie.
"May I see, Dick?" asked Miss Van Tuyn.
"No, you mayn't."
"Are you satisfied?"
"He's coming out more as I want him this time."
"Do you think you have found his secret?"
"Or yours, eh? What is happening in you, my girl?"
Before she could answer a telephone bell rang below.
"Damn!" said Garstin, going towards the staircase.
Before he went down he turned round and said:
"You're travelling fast."
And he disappeared. She heard him below tramping to the telephone. Thenshe went to a small square window in the studio, pushed it open, andlooked out. There was a tiny space of garden below. She saw a planetree shivering in the wind, yellow leaves on the rain-sodden ground. Asparrow flitted by and perched on the grimy coping of a low wall. Andshe shivered like the plane tree.
"Beryl!"
She started, turned, and went to the head of the stairs.
"What is it?"
"The telephone's for you. Come along down!"
"Coming!" she answered.
"Who is it?" she said, as she saw him standing by the telephone with thereceiver in his hand.
"Some old woman, by the voice. She says she must speak to you.Here--take it, my girl!"
"It must be old Fanny!" said Miss Van Tuyn, with a touch of irritation."Nobody else would know I was here. But I stupidly told Fanny."
She took the receiver out of his hand.
"I'm here! Who is it? Do make haste. I'm in a hurry."
She was thinking of Craven. It was nearly five o'clock, and she did notwant to be late in Glebe Place, though she dreaded the encounter sheexpected there.
"Oh, Beryl, there's bad news!"
"Bad news! What news?"
"I can't tell you like this."
"Nonsense! Tell me at once!"
"I can't! I simply cannot. Oh, my dear, get into a taxi and come back atonce."
"I insist on your telling me what is the matter!" said Miss Van Tuynsharply.
Her nerves were already on edge, and something in the sound of the voicethrough the telephone frightened her.
"Tell me at once what it is! Now speak plainly!"
There was a pause; then the agitated voice said:
"A cable has come from the Bahamas."
"The Bahamas! Well? Well?"
"Your poor father has--"
The voice failed.
"Oh, do tell me! For Heaven's sake, what is it?"
"Your poor father is dead. Oh, Beryl!"
Miss Van Tuyn stood quite still for a moment.
"My father--dead!" she thought.
She felt surprised. She felt shocked. But she was not conscious ofany real sorrow. She very seldom saw her father. Since he had marriedagain--he had married a woman with whom he was very much in love--hisstrongly independent daughter had faded into the background of his life.Beryl had not set her eyes upon him during the last eighteen months. Itwas impossible that she could miss him much, a father with whom she hadspent for years so little of her time. She knew that she would not misshim. Yet she had had a shock. After an instant she said:
"Thank you, Fanny. I shall be home very soon. Of course, I shall leavethe studio at once. Good-bye."
She hung up the receiver and went upstairs slowly. And as she went sheresolved not to say anything about what had happened to Dick Garstin.He was incapable of expressing conventional sympathy, and would probablysay something bizarre which would jar on her nerves if she told him.
She found the two men standing together in the studio. Arabian had onhis overcoat and gloves, and was holding his hat and umbrella.
"It was only Fanny Cronin!" she said.
As she spoke she looked narrowly at Garstin. Could Fanny have told himthe news? The casual expression on his face set her mind at ease on thatpoint. She was certain that he knew nothing.
"I must go," she said.
"I will walk with you to a taxi if you kindly allow me," said Arabian,getting her fur coat.
"Thank you!"
As he stood behind her helping her to get into the coat she wasconscious of a strange and terrible feeling of fear mingled with anintense desire to give herself up to the power in this man. Was Cravenoutside? Something in her hoped, almost prayed, that he might be. It wassurely the part of her that was afraid.
"Good-bye, Dick!" she said in an offhand voice.
"Good-bye!" he said. "Take care of he
r, Arabian."
She sent him a look full of intense and hostile inquiry. He met it witha half-amused smile.
"I shall do better now," he said.
"Ah?" said Arabian, looking polite and imperturbable.
"Come along!" said Miss Van Tuyn. "It must be getting late."
As she spoke a clock in the room began striking five. For a momentshe felt confused and almost ill. Her brain seemed too full of rushingthoughts for its holding capacity. Her head throbbed. Her legs feltweak.
"Anything the matter?" asked Garstin, gazing at her with keen attentionand curiosity.
"No," she said coldly. "Good-bye."
And she went down the stairs followed by Arabian.
Garstin did not accompany them. He had gone to stand before his pictureof Arabian.
Miss Van Tuyn opened the door. A soft gust of wind blew some small raininto her face.
"Let me hold my umbrella over you, please," said Arabian. "Do take myarm while we look for a taxi."
"No, no!"
She walked on.
"There is nothing the matter, I hope?"
"I had some bad news through the telephone."
She felt impelled to say this to him, though she had said nothing toGarstin. Her brain still felt horribly overcharged, and an impulse hadcome to her to seek instant relief.
"My father is dead," she added.
As she spoke she looked up at him, and she saw a sharp quiver distorthis lips for an instant.
"Did you know him?" she exclaimed, standing still.
"I? Indeed no! Why should you suppose so?"
"I thought--I don't know!"
He was now looking so calm, so earnestly sympathetic, that she almostbelieved that her eyes had played her a trick and that his face had notchanged at her news.
"I'm not normal to-day," she thought.
"I am deeply grieved, deeply. Please accept from me my most fullsympathy."
"Thank you. I scarcely ever saw my father, but naturally this news hasupset me. He died in the Bahamas."
"How very sad! So far away!"
"Yes."
They were still standing together, and he was holding his umbrella overher head and gazing down at her earnestly, when Craven turned the cornerof the road and came up to them. Miss Van Tuyn flushed. Although shehad asked Craven to come, she felt startled when she saw him, and herconfusion of mind increased. She did not feel competent to deal with thesituation which she had deliberately brought about. Craven had come uponthem too suddenly. She had somehow not expected him just at that moment,when she and Arabian were standing still. Before she was able to recoverher normal self-possession, Craven had taken off his hat to her and gonerapidly past them. She had just time to see the grim line of his lipsand the hard, searching glance he sent to her companion. Arabian, shenoticed, looked after him, and she saw that, while he looked, hislarge eyes lost all their melting gentleness. They had a cruel, almostmenacing expression in them, and they were horribly intelligent at thatmoment.
"What does this man not know?" she thought.
He might have little, or no, ordinary learning, but she was positivethat he had an almost appallingly intimate knowledge of many chapters inthe dark books of life.
"Shall we--?" said Arabian.
And they walked on slowly together.
"May I make a suggestion, Miss Van Tuyn," he said gently.
"What is it?"
"My little flat is close by, in Rose Tree Gardens. It is not quitearranged, but tea will be ready. Let me please offer you a cup of teaand a cigarette. There is a taxi!"
He made a signal with his left hand.
"We will keep it at the door, so that you may at once leave when youfeel refreshed. You have had this bad shock. You need a moment torecover."
The cab stopped beside them.
"No, I must really go home," she said, with an attempt at determination.
"Of course! But please let me have the privilege. You have told mefirst of all of your grief. This is real friendship. Let me then be alsofriendly, and help you to recover yourself."
"But really I must--"
"Four, Rose Tree Gardens! You know them?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good!"
The taxi glided away from the kerb.
And Miss Van Tuyn made no further protest. She had a strange feelingjust then that her will had abandoned her. Fanny Cronin's message musthave had an imperious effect upon her. Yet she still felt no real sorrowat her father's death. She seemed to be enveloped in something whichmade mental activity difficult, indeed almost impossible.
When the cab stopped, she said:
"I can only stay five minutes."
"Certainly! Dear Mademoiselle Cronin will expect you. Please wait forthe lady!"
Miss Van Tuyn was vaguely glad to hear him say that to the chauffeur.
She got out and looked upwards. She saw a big block of flats towering upin front of her.
"On the other side they face the river Thames," said Arabian. "All mywindows except three look out that way. We will go up in the elevator."
They passed through a handsome hall and stepped into the lift, whichcarried them up to the fourth floor of the building. Arabian put alatch-key into a polished mahogany door with a big letter M in brassnailed to it.
"Please!" he said, standing back for Miss Van Tuyn to pass in.
But she hesitated. She saw a pretty little hall, a bunch of roses in avase on a Chippendale table, two or three closed doors. She was awareof a very faint and pleasant odour, like the odour of flowers not roses,and guessed that someone had been burning some perfume in the flat.There was certainly nothing repellent in this temporary home of Arabian.Yet she felt with a painful strength that she had better go away withoutentering it. While she paused, but before she had said anything, sheheard a quiet step, and a thin man of about thirty with a very darknarrow face and light, grey eyes appeared.
"Please bring tea for two at once," said Arabian in Spanish.
"Yes, sir, in a moment," said the man, also in Spanish.
Miss Van Tuyn stepped in, and the door was gently shut behind her byArabian's manservant.
Arabian opened the second door on the left of the hall.
"This is my little salon," he said. "May I--"
"No, thank you. I'll keep on my coat. I must go home in a minute. Ishall have a good deal to do. Really I oughtn't to be here at all. Ifanyone--after such news--"
She looked at Arabian. She had just had news of the death of her father,and she had come out to tea with this man. Was she crazy?
"I don't know why I came!" she said bluntly, angrily almost.
"Do please sit down," he said, pushing forward a large arm-chair. "Ifthese curtains were not drawn we could see the river Thames from here.It is a fine view."
He bent down and poked the fire, then stood beside it, looking down ather as she sat in the chair.
She glanced round the room. It was well furnished and contained two orthree good pieces, but there was nothing in it which showed personality,a thoughtful guiding mind and taste; there was nothing in it even whichmarked it definitely as the home of a woman rather than a man, or viceversa.
"I rent it furnished," said Arabian, evidently guessing her thought.
"Are you here for long?"
"I do not quite know. That depends."
His large eyes were fixed upon her as he said this, and she longed toask him what intentions he had with regard to her. He had never madelove to her. He had never even been what is sometimes called "foolish"with her. Not a word to which she could object had ever come from hislips. By no action had he ever claimed anything from her. And yet shefelt that in some way he was governing her, was imposing his will onher. Certainly he had once followed her in the street. But on thatoccasion he had not known who she was. Now, as he gazed at her, she feltcertain that he had formed some definite project with regard to her, andmeant to carry it out at whatever cost. Garstin said he, Arabian, was inlove with her. Probably he was. But
if he was in love with her, whydid he never hint at it when they were alone together except by theexpression in his eyes? She asked herself why she was afraid of him,and the answer she seemed to get was that his reticence frightened her.There was something in his continued inaction which alarmed her. It wasa silence of conduct which lay like a weight upon her. She felt it nowas he stared at her.
"What do you want with me?"
That was what she longed, and yet was afraid, to say to him. Did he knowhow violently she was attracted by him and how fiercely he sometimesrepelled her? No doubt he did. No doubt he knew that at times shebelieved him to be horrible, suspected him of nameless things, ofabominable relationships; no doubt he knew that she was degradinglyjealous of him. When his eyes were thus fixed upon her she felt that heknew everything that was going on in her with which he had to do. Yet henever spoke of his knowledge.
His reserve almost terrified her. That was the truth.
The dark man with the light eyes brought in tea on a large silver tray.She began to drink it hastily.
"You--forgive me for asking--you will not leave London because of thissad news?" said Arabian.
"Do you mean for America?"
"Yes."
Miss Van Tuyn had not thought of such a possibility till he alludedto it. She could not, of course, be at her father's funeral. That wasimpossible. But suddenly it occurred to her that she had no doubt comeinto a very large fortune. There might be business to do. She might haveto cross the Atlantic. At the thought of this possibility her sense ofconfusion and almost of mental blackness increased, and yet she realizedmore vividly than before the death of her father.
"I don't know. I don't think so. No, thank you. I won't smoke. I mustgo. I ought never to have come after receiving such news."
She stood up. He took her hand. His was warm and strong, and a greatdeal of her personality seemed to her to be in its clasp--too muchindeed. His body fascinated hers, made her realize in a startling waythat the coldness of which some men had complained had either beenovercome by something that could burn and be consumed, or perhaps hadnever existed.
"You will not go to America without telling me?" he said.
"No, no. Of course not."
"You told me first of your sorrow!"
"Why--why did I?" she thought, wondering.
"And you did not tell Dick Garstin."
"No."
"And you came here to me."
"No, no! With you!"
"To my rooms in spite of your grief. We are friends from to-night."
"To-night . . . but it is afternoon!"
He still had her hand in his. She felt, or fancied she felt, a pulsebeating in his hand. It gave her a sense of terrible intimacy with him,as if she were close to the very sources of his being. And yet she knewnothing about him.
"It gets dark so early now," he said.
Dark! As he said it she thought, "That's his word! That's his word!"Everyone has his word, and dark was Arabian's.
"Good-bye!" she said.
"I will take you down."
Quietly and very naturally, he let her hand go. And at once she had asensation of being out in the cold.
They went down together in the lift. Just as they left it, and were inthe hall, a woman whom Miss Van Tuyn knew slightly, a Mrs. Birchington,an intimate of the Ackroyde and Lady Wrackley set, met them coming fromthe entrance.
"Oh, Miss Van Tuyn!" she said, stopping.
She held out her hand, looking from Miss Van Tuyn to Arabian.
"How are you?"
Her light eyes were searching and inquisitive. She had an evening paperin her hand.
"I--I am so grieved," she added, again looking at Arabian.
"Mr. Arabian--Mrs. Birchington!" Miss Van Tuyn felt obliged to say.
Mrs. Birchington and Arabian bowed.
"Grieved!" said Miss Van Tuyn.
"Yes. I have just seen the sad news about your father in the paper."
Miss Van Tuyn realized at once that she was caught, unless she lied. Butshe did not choose to lie before Arabian. Something--her pride of a freeAmerican girl, perhaps--forbade that. And she only said:
"Thank you for your sympathy. Good-bye."
"Good-bye!"
Mrs. Birchington bowed again to Arabian, swept him with her sharpinquisitive eyes, and stepped into the lift.
"She lives here," he said, "in the apartment opposite to mine."
As Miss Van Tuyn drove away towards Claridge's she wondered whetherArabian was glad because of that fortuitous meeting.
Because of it her close intimacy with him--it would certainly now becalled, and thought of, as that--would very soon be public property.All those women would hear about it. How crazy she had been to visitArabian's flat at such a moment! She was angry with herself, and yet shebelieved that in like circumstances she would do the same thing again.Her power of will had deserted her, or this man, Arabian, had the powerto inhibit her will. And Craven? What could he be thinking about her?She knew he was a sensitive man. What must he be thinking? That she hadasked him to come all the way to Glebe Place merely in order that hemight see her in deep conversation with another man. And she had noteven spoken to him. He would be furious. She remembered his face. He wasfurious. By what she had done she had certainly alienated Craven.
And her father was dead!
She leaned back in the darkness of the cab, feeling weak and miserable,almost terrified. Surely Fate had her in a tight grip. She rememberedArabian's question: would it be necessary for her to go to America? Herfather was very rich. She was his only child. He must certainly haveleft her a great deal of his money, for his second wife was wealthy andwould not need it. There might be business to do which would necessitateher presence in New York. At that moment she almost wished for an urgentsummons from the New World. A few hours in a train, the crossing of agang-plank, the hoot of a siren, and she would be free from allthese complications! The sea would lie between her and Arabian--AdelaSellingworth--Craven. She would stay away for months. She would not comeback at all.
But this man, Arabian, would he let her go without a word, without doingsomething? Would his strange and horrible reserve last till her ship wasat sea? She could not believe it. If she made up her mind to sail, andhe knew it, he would speak, act. Something would happen. There would besome revelation of character, of intention. She was sure of it. Arabianwas a man who could wait--but not for ever.
She still seemed to feel the pulse beating in his warm hand as she drovethrough the rain and the darkness.
PART SIX