“Now, Carey, talking to the devil?” broke in a voice on his meditations, a full, very masculine voice, that filled the room. It made Image’s voice seem effeminate and thin. “My old nurse used to say when she found me muttering to myself that I was telling the devil too much of my mind.” “My dear fellow, how glad I am to see you again. It’s a silly habit of mine. I and myself, we often talk to one another.... Let’s have a good look at you.... A bit heavier——” “Yes,” said Gilbert laughing ruefully, “I am putting on flesh. Don’t get enough exercise. You haven’t changed, Carey.” “Ah! I have definitely come to the shrivelled stage. I was looking at your father’s portrait. Capital! When you laugh you are not so like, but your face in repose—very like. I am glad to hear of your success, my boy. Johnson Marks was in court yesterday, and he told me your speech was truly remarkable for a young man, and you know how many young barristers he has heard. You must have been very pleased at the successful issue of the trial.” “Yes, I confess I was. I wanted to pull the thing off. I made up my mind to get him acquitted.” As he said it, the determined set of his mouth was old beyond his years and reminded Image very powerfully of his father. Then Gilbert smiled and clapped Image on the back, and the impression of egoistic ruthlessness was dissipated. When Gilbert Currey smiled he had considerable charm. Women would have let him know this if he had found time to court them. Richards’ voice was heard at the door. “Mr. Iverson.” “Hallo, old chap, flushed with victory, eh? Lord! what a lot of swotting you must have done over that case. Your knowledge of Eastern poisons knocked me silly. You’re a nut, you are.” No one could have mistaken Jack Iverson for anything else but a Service man. As a matter of fact, he was in the Blues, and exceptionally good-looking, with that rare distinction in a man—a wonderful clear, healthy skin. His eyes a curious jadelike green with the bluish clear whites that one usually sees only in the eyes of a small child, Jack Iverson was one of the handsomest and richest young men that lounged about Mayfair. Image did not know Jack Iverson, but he knew the next guest, an old friend, Dr. Fritz Neeburg, and he had heard of the last arrival, Gilbert’s particular friend and college chum, Colin Paton.