moved as if she were going towards it, then returned and went to the
head of the stairs. She heard the front door open and listened. Dick
Garstin's big bass voice said in an offhand tone:

"Halloh! Thought you weren't coming! Glad to see you. Come along in!"

"I know I am late," said a warm voice--the voice of a man. "For me this
place has been rather difficult to find. I am not well acquainted with
the painters' quarter of London."

A door banged heavily. Then Miss Van Tuyn heard steps, and again the
warm voice saying:

"I see you do caricatures. Or are these not by you?"

"Every one of them!" said Garstin. "Except that. That's a copy I made of
one of Leonardo's horrors. It's fine. It's a thing to live with."

"Leonardo--ah, yes!" said the voice.

"I wonder if that man has ever heard of Leonardo?" was Miss Van Tuyn's
thought just then.

"Up those stairs right ahead of you," said Garstin.

Miss Van Tuyn quickly drew back and sat down again on the sofa. An
instant after she had done so the living bronze appeared at the top of
the stairs, and his big brown eyes rested on her. No expression either
of surprise, or of anything else, came into his face as he saw her.
And she realized immediately that whatever else this man was he was