lver upon
which lay a visiting-card.

"Where is he?"

"He is in the library, sir."

"Very good. I will join him there in a few moments."

The portrait of Sir Jacques had been spared to posterity by that
admirable tradition which denies an English gentleman any display of
emotion in the presence of a servant.

XV

"I have seized the first opportunity," said Thessaly, as Paul, composure
restored, entered the library, "of offering a personal explanation of my
behaviour."

Paul took his extended hand, waiving the proferred explanation. "Except
as regards the damage done to your property, I am not interested. Had
your disappearance been dictated by nothing more than a sudden desire
for solitude I should have understood. If I should ever be called upon
to act as you did on that occasion I should know that a friend would
understand. If he misunderstood he would not be a friend. I fear I am
somewhat dusty. I have been destroying a portion of my legacy."

Jules Thessaly, dropping back into the padded arm-chair in which he had
been seated, stared hard at Paul.

"Not the illustrations to that portion of Scheherazade's narrative
invariably expunged from all respectable editions of the _Thousand and
One Nights_?"

Paul nodded, pushing a box of cigars across the table. "You know them?"

"I know that Sir Jacques possessed such pictures."

"I have destroyed them."

"Why?"

Paul selected a cigar ere looking up to meet the faintly amused glance
of Thessaly. "They bore witness to a phase of his life which he chose to
conceal from the world. I could do no less."

"You speak with contempt."

"The hypocrite is contemptible. A frank libertine may be an amusing
fellow. If we do not think so, we can avoid him."

"I agree with you up to a point. But in justice remember that every man
has pages in his history which are never displayed to the world."

"Very likely. But every man does not pose as a saint. Those who seek the
company of a professed rake do so at their own peril. But the disguised
satyr is a menace to the innocent."

"I would suggest that some specific 'innocent' occurs to your mind?"

"The adder does not bite itself. Were there no stories?"

"A few. But Sir Jacques was a model of discretion; as an under-secretary
he would have glittered in the political firmament. There was a pretty
village girl who promised at one time to provide the district with
agreeable table-talk, but unfortunately for Miss Kingsbu