But here he was interrupted by Garstin, who said: “She tells everyone I’m going to paint her because she hopes by reiteration to force me to do it. But she isn’t the type that interests me.” “My dear Dick, I’ll gladly take to morphia or drink if it will help,” said Miss Van Tuyn. “I can easily get the Cafe Royal expression. One has only to sit with a glass of something the colour of absinthe in front of one and look sea-sick. I’m perfectly certain that with a week or two’s practice I could look quite as degraded as Cora.” “Cora?” said Braybrooke, alertly, hearing a name he did not know. “She’s a horror who goes to the Cafe Royal and whom Dick calls a free woman.” “Free from all the virtues, I suppose!” said Braybrooke smartly. “Good-bye both of you!” said Garstin at this juncture. “But we haven’t got to the Marble Arch!” “What’s that got to do with it? I’m off.” He seemed to be going, then stopped, and directed the two pin-points of light at Miss Van Tuyn. “I flatly refuse to make an Academy portrait of you, so don’t hope for it,” he said. “But if you come along to the studio to-morrow afternoon you may possibly find me at work on a blackmailer.” “Dick!” said Miss Van Tuyn, in a voice which startled Braybrooke. “I don’t promise,” said the painter. “I don’t believe in promises, unless you break ‘em. But it’s just on the cards.” “You are painting a blackmailer!” said Braybrooke, with an air of earnest interest. “How very original!” “Original! Why is it original to paint a blackmailer?” “Oh--well, one doesn’t often run across them. They--they seem to keep so much to themselves.” “I don’t agree with you. If they did some people would be a good deal better off than they are now.” “Ah, to be sure! That’s very true. I had never looked at it in that light.” “What time, Dick?” said Miss Van Tuyn, rather eagerly. “You might look in about three.” “I will. That’s a bargain.” Garstin turned on his heel and tramped away towards Berkeley Street. “You are going home by Park Lane?” said Braybrooke, feeling greatly relieved, but still rather upset. “Yes. But why don’t you take me somewhere to tea?” “Nothing I should like better. Where shall we go?” “Let’s go to the Ritz. I had meant to walk, but let us take a taxi.” There was suddenly a change in Miss Van Tuyn. Braybrooke noticed it at once. She seemed suddenly restless, almost excited, and as if she were in a hurry. “There’s one!” she added, lifting her tightly furled umbrella. The driver stopped, and in a moment they were on their way to the Ritz. “You like Dick Garstin?” said Braybrooke, pulling up one of the windows and wondering what Miss Cronin would say if she could see him at this moment.