that the Lady Allegra was a professional singer. Either that
or in the very front rank of amateurs. As to the latter, I had always
been more or less in with the musical set, and I knew of no one who
came within a mile of filling my bill of particulars.

A professional, then, but not necessarily high up on the ladder. Merit
may wait a long time for its due recognition. So I did not despise the
humble field of vaudeville and of the continuous performance houses.

Week after week passed without result, and it was now the 1st of March.
I saw Indiman every few days and the game dragged equally with him.
Chivers had called half a dozen times, and was now openly negotiating
for the possession of the phonographic cylinders. But Indiman fenced
skilfully and kept him hanging on.

One night I was strolling through East Houston Street. A transparency
caught my eye. It announced that a performance of high-class vaudeville
was in progress. I paid my dime and entered.

A long, low-studded room, dim with tobacco-smoke and redolent of stale
beer. At the far end a small stage with faded red hangings. The card
read No. 7, and the programme informed me that the turn was "A Bouquet
of Ballads." A slight, fair-haired girl appeared on the stage. Her
cheeks were burning, and she kept her eyes fixed on the floor. The
piano jangled, and she began her song, Schubert's "Linden-Tree." Her
voice shook and quavered as she went on, but I knew it. I had found the
Lady Allegra.

The audience listened indifferently. This sort of thing did not appeal
to East Houston Street sensibilities, and there was no applause at the
end. The girl essayed a few bars of her second number, a popular air in
trivial waltz time, but with even poorer success. Then she broke down
altogether and retired distressfully. Cat-calls and jeers, of course.

But one turn had been allotted to "Mavis," as she was called in the
bill, and I assumed that she would shortly leave the place. I went
outside and waited. Within ten minutes I saw her emerging from the
performer's entrance, cloaked and deeply veiled. But I could not be
mistaken. I stood stock-still like any fool as she passed close to me.
What was I to do?

Then good-fortune smiled for once, and in gratitude for that surpassing
indulgence I hereby relinquish all claim upon the lady for favors to
come, now and forever. As the girl passed down the street a couple of
pasty-faced young men stepped forward. I saw her stop and s