"I was in my laboratory when he came into the room, and watched him unobserved. He took in the whole studio at a glance, very interestedly. He went back to the door to get the effect as it would appear in a stage set, from the orchestra. He viewed it, as few do, as a whole, not in detail. Almost every one who enters inspects the curios and furnishings one by one. He summed up the general effect. By his appearance I knew him to be a man with brains. Few men of business can afford the time for a morning call, unless they wish some definite information. He had not the appearance of the idle rich; yet he was well-off. A literary man can use his inventive faculty not more than four hours a day without excessive fatigue; consequently he has time left in which to amuse himself. And finally, when he opened his coat for a pencil, I saw a typewritten manuscript in his inside pocket."
"He might have been an actor."
"It was not a part in a play that he had; they're bound up in smaller shape. Besides, he had none of the vanity of the actor. He was so sure of himself that he didn't feel the need of impressing any one."
"He might have been reading a play for a friend."
"The manuscript was full of pencil corrections. It was not a final draft, and would be almost undecipherable, except to the author. But, as far as that goes, almost every man who writes has an unfinished play up his sleeve. It was a safe guess."
"Well, what of the Lady in Taupe, then? I'm interested in her."
"What I surmised is probably true; but I suspect something deeper than that. It's a bit elaborate, as he
