Page:The Black Camel (IA blackcamel0000earl).djvu/48

The fortune-teller smiled. “Miss Fane is most charming———”

“We don’t need your evidence on that point———”

“Most charming, but I do not permit myself the unwise luxury of a sentimental attachment for my clients. I advised her as I did because I saw no happiness possible in this proposed marriage.” His tone grew serious. “Incidentally, whether you appreciate it or not, I did you a favor to-day.”

“Really?” said Jaynes. “But I’m not asking favors of a mountebank like you.”

A dark flush spread over Tarneverro’s face. “There can be no point in prolonging this interview,” he remarked, and turned away.

Jaynes seized him quickly by the arm. “We'll prolong it this far. You are going to Miss Fane at once and tell her you’re a fraud, a fake, and that you wish to retract all you said to her to-day.”

Tarneverro shook off the other’s grasp. “And if I refuse?” he said.

“If you refuse,” Jaynes answered, “I propose to give you a thrashing you won’t forget for many a day.”

“I do refuse,” said Tarneverro quietly.

Jaynes’ arm shot back, only to find itself in a surprisingly firm grip. He turned. Val Martino, the director, was at his side; his was the grip on the Britisher’s arm. Beyond Martino, Huntley Van Horn, resplendent in Hollywood evening garb, looked on with an air of amused interest.

“Now, now,” bellowed Martino, his face even redder than usual. “Cut this out, please. Too much of it in the pictures already. We can’t have it, Jaynes, we can’t have it.”