Graham's hat and coat were taken by a Japanese servant, whose little
eyes twinkled a welcome.
The long, brilliantly lighted passage which led to the studio was hung
with nudes, some of them painted in oils with a sure touch, some highly
finished in black-and-white, and the rest dashed off in chalks,--rough
impressionist things which might have been drawn by art students under
the influence of drink. Between them in narrow black frames there was a
collection of diabolically clever caricatures of well-known singers,
actors, authors, painters and politicians, each one bringing out the
weaknesses of the victims with peculiar impishness and insight. The
floor of the passage was covered with a thick black pile carpet, which
smothered all noise.
As Graham entered the studio several strange minor chords were struck on
the piano and a woman's deep contralto voice filled the large studio
like winter wind moaning through an old chimney.
The Papowsky, who was giving an evening for young artists, and was
half-covered in a more than usually grotesque garment, slid out of the
shadow and gave Graham her left hand, murmuring a welcome. Exuding a
curious pungent aroma, she placed a long finger on her red, thin lips
and slipped away again. For some minutes Graham remained where she left
him, trying to accustom his eyes to the dim--though far from
religious--light. He made out men in dress clothes sitting here and
there and the glint of nymph-like forms passing from place to place,
springily. The scent of cigarette smoke mixed with that of some queer
intoxicating perfume. The sound of water plashing from a fountain came
to his ears.
On his way to find a seat, Graham's arm was suddenly seized, he was
pulled into a corner and found himself, gladly enough, alone with the
girl who called herself Ita Strabosck. There was one blue light in this
alcove and by it he could see that the girl was dressed like an Apache
in black suit with trousers which belled out over her little ankles and
fitted her tightly everywhere else. She retained her close grip and
began to whisper eagerly to him. Her foreign accent was more marked than
usual, owing to the emotion under which she obviously labored. Her heart
hammered against his arm.
"You have come to zee me?"