He passed out as his servant entered.
"The persons are here, Monsieur." He felt that the man must be got rid of at once.

He must not be allowed to know where the picture was being taken to.

There was something sly about him, and he had thoughtful, treacherous eyes.
Sitting down at the writing-table he scribbled a note to Lord Henry, asking him to send him round something to read and reminding him that they were to meet at eight-fifteen that evening.
"Wait for an answer," he said, handing it to him, "and show the men in here." In two or three minutes there was another knock, and Mr.Hubbard himself, the celebrated frame-maker of South Audley Street, came in with a somewhat rough-looking young assistant.

Mr.Hubbard was a florid, red-whiskered little man, whose admiration for art was considerably tempered by the inveterate impecuniosity of most of the artists who dealt with him.

As a rule, he never left his shop.