A Crime on Canvas by Fred M. White — Read

WHETHER Sir Arthur had been coaching his eccentric guest or not Lawrence could not say. At any rate, Omley behaved with great circumspection, and all signs of his previous hilarity had passed away. Certainly he had been a long way from sober when Lawrence saw him in the hall. But he was propriety itself at dinner and his conversation on art was luminous and entertaining. He spoke as if he knew the Blantyre family pictures by heart. And yet, from the few remarks which Ethel addressed to him, Lawrence concluded that she had never met the artist before. At the same time, he had spoken to Lawrence as if he were a frequent guest. The only conclusion he could come to was that Omley was in the habit of visiting Glenallan secretly, presumably late at night when the household had gone to bed. There was just a possibility that the wine might loosen Omley's tongue, but the evening advanced quietly and nothing was said or done by the stranger to give any further clue to the reason why he was visiting Glenallan. Bed-time came at length, and even Omley seemed to be glad of the chance of retiring.

On Monday at noon came the London papers, which Lawrence proceeded to scan with a view to seeing if there was anything fresh in regard to the studio tragedy. A little later Watney and himself would be returning to London, but a judicious question or two thrown out in Omley's direction elicited the fact that he would not be back in town till towards the end of the week.