Page:Magician 1908.djvu/41

 The new arrival stood at the end of the room with all eyes upon him. He threw himself into an attitude of command and remained for a moment perfectly still.

“You look as if you were posing, Haddo,” said Warren huskily.

“He couldn’t help doing that if he tried,” laughed Clayson.

Oliver Haddo slowly turned his glance to the painter.

“I grieve to see, oh most excellent Warren, that the ripe juice of the aperitif has glazed your sparkling eye.”

“Do you mean to say I’m drunk, sir?”

“In one gross, but expressive, word, drunk.”

The painter grotesquely flung himself back in his chair as though he had been struck a blow, and Haddo looked steadily at Clayson.

“How often have I explained to you, O Clayson, that your deplorable lack of education precludes you from the brilliancy to which you aspire?”

For an instant Oliver Haddo resumed his effective pose; and Susie, smiling, looked at him. He was a man of great size, two or three inches more than six feet high; but the most noticeable thing about him was a vast obesity. His paunch was of imposing dimensions. His face was large and fleshy. He had thrown himself into the arrogant attitude of Velasquez’s portrait of Del Borro in the Museum of Berlin; and his countenance bore of set purpose the same contemptuous smile. He advanced and shook hands with Dr. Porhoët.