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shining lips, was constantly open. He had grown much balder and now there was only a crescent of long hair stretching across the back of his head from ear to ear. There was something terrible about that great shining scalp. His paunch was huge; he was a very tall man and held himself erect, so that it protruded like a vast barrel. His hands were infinitely repulsive; they were red and soft and moist. He was sweating freely, and beads of perspiration stood on his forehead and on his shaven lip.

For a moment they all looked at one another in silence. Then Haddo turned to his servants.

“Go,” he said.

As though frightened out of their wits, they made for the door and with a bustling hurry flung themselves out. A torpid smile crossed his face as he watched them go. Then he moved a step nearer his visitors. His manner had still the insolent urbanity which was customary to him.

“And now, my friends, will you tell me how I can be of service to you.”

“I have come about Margaret’s death,” said Arthur.

Haddo, as was his habit, did not immediately answer. He looked slowly from Arthur to Dr. Porhoët, and from Dr. Porhoët to Susie. His eyes rested on her hat, and she felt uncomfortably that he was inventing some gibe about it.

“I should have thought this hardly the moment to intrude upon my sorrow,” he said at last. “If you have condolences to offer I venture to suggest