d measured his changing
expression.

"Is that all?" he asked.

"Yes," said Lewis.

"Well," said Leighton, "I suggest we destroy the lot. What do you say,
Le Brux?"

Le Brux raised his bushy eyebrows, shrugged his shoulders, and threw out
his hands.

"Eh," he grunted, "it is for the boy to say. Has he the courage? They
are his offspring."

The two men stood and looked at Lewis. His eyes passed from them to his
work and back again to Leighton's face.

"You are my father," he said.

"Come on," cried Leighton, without a moment's hesitation, "let us all
join in the slaughter. Just remember, boy, that it's no more cruel to
kill your young than to sell them into slavery."

Three days later all of Paris that counts was talking of the "Startled
Woman." The name of Leighton _fils_ was in many mouths and in almost as
many printed paragraphs.

"Leighton _fils_!" cried Lewis. Why _fils_?"

"Paris has a long memory for art, my boy," said Leighton. "Before I
learned that I could never reach the heights, I raised a small monument
on a foot-hill. They haven't forgotten it, these critics who never die."

Lewis was assailed by dealers. They offered him prices that seemed to
him fabulous. But Leighton listened calmly and said, "Wait." The longer
they waited, the higher climbed the rival dealers. At last came an
official envelop. "Ah," said Leighton, before Lewis had opened it, "it
has come."

It was an offer from the state. It was lower than the least of the
dealers' bids. "That's the prize offer, boy," said Leighton. "Take it."

They went back to London together. Leighton helped Lewis search for a
studio. They examined many places, pleasant and unpleasant. Finally
Lewis settled on a great, bare, loft-like room within a few minutes'
walk of the flat. "This will do," he said.

"Why?" asked Leighton.

"Space," said Lewis. "Le Brux taught me that. One must have space to see
big."

While they were still busy fitting up the atelier a note came to Lewis
from Lady Derl. She told him to come and see her at once, to bring all
his clippings on the "Startled Woman," and a photograph that would do
the lady more justice than had the newspaper prints.

When Lewis entered Lady Derl's room of light, it seemed to him that he
had not been away from London for a day. The room was unchanged. Lady
Derl was unchanged. She did not rise. She held out her hand, and Lewis
raised her fingers to his lips.

"How well you do it, Lew!" she sai