He sat and smoked his pipe and wished Ann were with him because he knew he was not as cool as he had meant to be. He felt a certain tingling of excitement in his body, and this was not the time to be excited. He waited for some minutes before he went up-stairs. It was true that Strangeways had been much better lately. He had seemed to find it easier to follow conversation. During the last few days, Tembarom had talked to him in a matter-of-fact way about the house and its various belongings. He had at last seemed to waken to an interest in the picture-gallery. Evidently he knew something of picture-galleries and portraits, and found himself relieved by his own clearness of thought when he talked of them.
“I feel better,” he said two or three times. “Things seem clearer--nearer.”
“Good business!” exclaimed Tem-barom. “I told you it’d be that way. Let’s hold on to pictures. It won’t be any time before you’ll be remembering where you’ve seen some.”
He had been secretly rather strung up; but he had been very gradual in approaching his final suggestion that some night, when everything was quiet, they might go and look at the gallery together.
“What you need is to get out of the way of wanting to stay in one place,” he argued. “The doctor says you’ve got to have change, and even going from one room to another is a fine thing.”
Strangeways had looked at him anxiously for a few moments, even suspiciously, but his face had cleared after the look. He drew himself up and passed his hand over his forehead.
“I believe--perhaps he is right,” he murmured.
“Sure he’s right,” said Tembarom. “He’s the sort of chap who ought to know. He’s been made into a baronet for knowing. Sir Ormsby Galloway, by jingo! That’s no slouch of a name. Oh, he knows, you bet your life!”
This morning when he had seen him he had spoken of the plan again. The visitors had gone away; the servants could be sent out of sight and hearing; they could go into the library and smoke and he could look at the books. And then they could take a look at the picture-gallery if he wasn’t too tired. It would be a change, anyhow.
To-night, as he went up the huge staircase, Tembarom’s calmness of being had not increased. He was aware of a quickened pulse. The dead silence of the house added to the unusualness of things. He could not remember ever having been so anxious before, except on the occasion when he had taken his first day’s “stuff” to Galton. But he showed no outward signs of excitement when he entered the room and found Strangeways standing, perfectly attired in evening dress.