And Miss Van Tuyn made no further protest. She had a strange feeling just then that her will had abandoned her. Fanny Cronin’s message must have had an imperious effect upon her. Yet she still felt no real sorrow at her father’s death. She seemed to be enveloped in something which made 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 for the 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 up in front of her. “On the other side they face the river Thames,” said Arabian. “All my windows except three look out that way. We will go up in the elevator.” They passed through a handsome hall and stepped into the lift, which carried them up to the fourth floor of the building. Arabian put a latch-key into a polished mahogany door with a big letter M in brass nailed 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 a vase on a Chippendale table, two or three closed doors. She was aware of 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 without entering it. While she paused, but before she had said anything, she heard a quiet step, and a thin man of about thirty with a very dark narrow 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 by Arabian’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. I shall have a good deal to do. Really I oughtn’t to be here at all. If anyone--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. “If these 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 at her as she sat in the chair. She glanced round the room. It was well furnished and contained two or three good pieces, but there was nothing in it which showed personality, a thoughtful guiding mind and taste; there was nothing in it even which marked it definitely as the home of a woman rather than a man, or vice versa. “I rent it furnished,” said Arabian, evidently guessing her thought.