Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: geniuses, there were no more traces of an eye to effect in his dress than in his studio. Such was Ronald Campion, as he stood painting with a rapid bold action, and an air of entire absorption in his work, from which he only paused to give some slightly impatient direction to the model who stood and shivered in classical costume on his right, for it was cold work keeping the pose when the stove had been allowed to go out for lack of attention. So much engrossed was he, that he did not look round when the door which communicated with the house opened, and an elderly man with a cross-grained walnut- coloured face made his appearance. ' Mister Babcock to see you, sir, ' he announced with a certain grim relish, as he stood at the top of the short flight of steps. Campion muttered something which did not sound like delight. ' Hang it, Bales, couldn't you tell him I was busy, ' he said. ' Just precisely what I did tell him, ' said Bales, with nn injured air; 'but it wasn't no use; he's a-comin'in, he is?wants to see you on important business, 'cordin' to him.' Bales was an old soldier who had been a professional model for some years, and now acted as Campion's factotum. His chief characteristic was a systematic disbelief in everything and everybody, which be seldom lost a chance of expressing. As he spoke he stood aside to make way for the visitor, who seemed to have no misgivings as to his welcome. ' Well, my dear fellow, how are you ? Hardat it, as usual, I see. Never saw such a fellow, ' he began, in the tone of one who rallies another upon a rather ridiculous foible. ' I thought I'd drop in and look you up?can't stop long. I wanted to see you about a little matter of mine.' And he glanced at the model with a meaning which Campion affected not to understand, for he