Detective and mystery stories; Hoodlums -- Fiction; London (England) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Murder -- Fiction
Helen Cumberly absorbed his entire attention; in everything he sought to
claim her interest; and when, ere taking their departure, the girl
and her friend walked around the studio to view the other pictures,
Gianapolis was the attendant cavalier, and so well as one might judge,
in his case, his glance rarely strayed from the piquant beauty of Helen.
When they departed, it was Gianapolis, and not Olaf van Noord, who
escorted them to the door and downstairs to the street. The red lips
of the Eurasian smiled upon her circle of adulators, but her eyes--her
unfathomable eyes--followed every movement of the Greek.
XXVII
GROVE OF A MILLION APES
Four men sauntered up the grand staircase and entered the huge
smoking-room of the Radical Club as Big Ben was chiming the hour of
eleven o'clock. Any curious observer who had cared to consult the
visitor's book in the hall, wherein the two lines last written were not
yet dry, would have found the following entries:
VISITOR RESIDENCE INTROD'ING
MEMBER
Dr. Bruce Cumberly London John Exel
M. Gaston Paris Brian Malpas
The smoking-room was fairly full, but a corner near the big open grate
had just been vacated, and here, about a round table, the four disposed
themselves. Our French acquaintance being in evening dress had perforce
confined himself in his sartorial eccentricities to a flowing silk
knot in place of the more conventional, neat bow. He was already upon
delightfully friendly terms with the frigid Exel and the aristocratic
Sir Brian Malpas. Few natures were proof against the geniality of the
brilliant Frenchman.
Conversation drifted, derelict, from one topic to another, now seized
by this current of thought, now by that; and M. Gaston Max made no
perceptible attempt to steer it in any given direction. But presently:
“I was reading a very entertaining article,” said Exel, turning his
monocle upon the physician, “in the Planet to-day, from the pen of Miss
Cumberly; Ah! dealing with Olaf van Noord.”
Sir Brian Malpas suddenly became keenly interested.
“You mean in reference to his new picture, 'Our Lady of the Poppies'?”
he said.
“Yes,” replied Exel, “but I was unaware that you knew van Noord?”
“I do not know him,” said Sir Brian, “I should very much like to meet
him. But directly the picture is on view to the public I shall certainly
subscribe my half-crown.”
“My own idea,” drawled Exel, “was that Miss Cumberly's article probably
was more interesting than the picture or the painter. Her description
of the canvas was certainly most vivid; and I, myself, for a moment,
experienced an inclination to see the thing. I feel sure, however, that
I should be disappointed.”
“I think you are wrong,” interposed Cumberly. “Helen is enthusiastic
about the picture, and even Miss Ryland, whom you have met and who is a
somewhat severe critic, admits that it is out of the ordinary.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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