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Harz muttered an excuse, shook hands with his host, and bowing to his new acquaintance, went away. He caught a glimpse of Greta's face against the window, and waved his hand to her. In the road he came on Dawney, who was turning in between the poplars, with thumbs as usual hooked in the armholes of his waistcoat. "Hallo!" the latter said. "Doctor!"

Haven't time to know the sort of people who expect one to change one's clothes." "As you like; ta-to!" And, puffing out his chest, Dawney vanished through a blanket looped across the doorway. Harz set a pot of coffee on a spirit-lamp, and cut himself some bread.

Decie, passing her hand across her brow "crime is but the hallmark of strong individuality." Miss Naylor, gushing rather pink, stammered: "A great crime must show itself a murder. Why, of course!" "If that were so," said Dawney, "we should only have to look about us no more detectives."

Walking along the river wall at Botzen, Edmund Dawney said to Alois Harz: "Would you care to know the family at that pink house, Villa Rubein?" Harz answered with a smile: "Perhaps." "Come with me then this afternoon." They had stopped before an old house with a blind, deserted look, that stood by itself on the wall; Harz pushed the door open. "Come in, you don't want breakfast yet.

"I wish you could give me something for my head. It's foolish to worry. Nerves of course! But I can't help it! You know my opinion, Dr. Dawney. That young man will go far if he remains unfettered; he will make a name. You will be doing him a great service if you could show him the affair as it really is a drag on him, and quite unworthy of his pride! Do help me! You are just the man to do it!"

"Work!" said Dawney deliberately: "you couldn't, if you tried." "I must." "My dear fellow, you couldn't tell one colour from another." "I must be doing something; I can't sit here and think." Dawney hooked his thumbs into his waistcoat: "You won't see the sun for three days yet, if I can help it." Harz got up. "I'm going to my studio to-morrow," he said. "I promise not to go out.

Dawney did everything for him, and Harz resented in a listless way the intent scrutiny of the doctor's calm, black eyes. Towards the end of the second day he was able to get up; Dawney found him sitting on the bed in shirt and trousers. "My son," he said, "you had better tell me what the trouble is it will do your stubborn carcase good." "I must go back to work," said Harz.

The farther trees were fret-worked black against the lingering gold of the sunset; a huge moth, attracted by the tip of his cigar, came fluttering in his face. The music of a concertina rose and fell, like the sighing of some disillusioned spirit. Dawney stood for several minutes staring at the house. He was shown to Mrs. Decie's room.

Dawney stretched his large soft body; a calculating look had come into his eyes. "You're a tough little man!" he said. "I've had to be tough." Dawney rose; tobacco smoke was wreathed round his unruffled hair. "Touching Villa Rubein," he said, "shall I call for you? It's a mixed household, English mostly very decent people." "No, thank you. I shall be painting all day.

Doctors came, but after the first he refused to see them. "No," he said to Dawney "throwing away money. If I pull through it won't be because of them." For days together he would allow no one but Dawney, Dominique, and the paid nurse in the room. "I can stand it better," he said to Christian, "when I don't see any of you; keep away, old girl, and let me get on with it!"