I set out to walk to my hotel, wondering how I was to while away the long night until sleep should come to relieve me.  Suddenly I remembered D’Arcy, and my promise to call upon him.  I changed my course, and hailing a hansom drove to the address he had given me.

When I reached the door I found, upon looking at my watch, that it was late—­so late that I was dubious whether I should ring the bell.  I remembered, however, that he told me how very late his hours were, and I rang.

On sending in my card I was shown at once into the studio, and after threading my way between some pieces of massive furniture and pictures upon easels, I found D’Arcy lolling lazily upon a huge sofa.  Seeing that he was not alone, I was about to withdraw, for I was in no mood to meet strangers.  However, he sprang up and introduced me to his guest, whom he called Symonds, an elegant-looking man in a peculiar kind of evening dress, who, as I afterwards learned, was one of Mr. D’Arcy’s chief buyers.  This gentleman bowed stiffly to me.

He did not stay long; indeed, it was evident that the appearance of a stranger somewhat disconcerted him.

After he was gone D’Arcy said, ’A good fellow!  One of my most important buyers.  I should like you to know him, for you and I are going to be friends.  I hope.’

He seems very fond of pictures,’ I said.  A man of great taste, with a real love of art and music.’

In a little while after this gentleman’s departure in came De Castro, who had driven up in a hansom.  I certainly saw a flash of anger in his eyes as he recognised me, but it vanished like lightning, and his manner became cordiality itself.  Late as it was (it was nearly twelve), he pulled out his cigarette case, and evidently intended to begin the evening.  As soon as he was told that Mr. Symonds had been, he began to talk about him in a disparaging manner.  Evidently his metier was, as I had surmised, that of a professional talker.  Talk was his stock-in-trade.

The night wore on, and De Castro in the intervals of his talk kept pulling out his watch.  It was evident that he wanted to be going, but was reluctant to leave me there.  For my part, I frequently rose to go, but on getting a sign from D’Arcy that he wished me to stay I sat down again.  At last D’Arcy said,

’You had better go now, De Castro, you have kept that hansom outside for more than an hour and a half; and besides, if you stay till daylight our friend here will stay longer, for I want to talk with him alone.’

De Castro got up with a laugh that seemed genuine enough, and left us.

D’Arcy, who was still on the sofa, then lapsed into a silence that became after a while rather awkward.  He lay there, gazing abstractedly at the fireplace.

’Some of my friends call me, as you heard De Castro say the other night, Haroun-al-Raschid, and I suppose I am like him in some things.  I am a bad sleeper, and to be amused by De Castro when I can’t sleep is the chief of blessings.  De Castro, however, is not so bad as he seems.  A man may be a scandal-monger without being really malignant.  I have known him go out of his way to do a struggling man a service.’