" Ellison remarked, "that the English
stage will know him any more! No play could survive such an onslaught
as yours. I hear that Thorndyke is going to close the theatre."

"If it was opened," Matravers said, "for the purpose of presenting
such work as this latest production, the sooner it is closed the
better."

Ellison shrugged his shoulders.

"It is a large subject," he said, "and I am not sure that we are of
one mind. We will not discuss it. At any rate, I am very sorry for
Berenice!"

"I do not think," Matravers said in measured tones, "that you need be
sorry for her. With her gifts she will scarcely remain long without an
engagement. I trust that she may secure one which will not involve
the prostitution of her talent." Ellison laughed shortly. He had an
immense admiration for Matravers, but just at present he was a little
out of temper with him.

"You admit her talent, then?" he remarked. "I am glad of that!"

"I am not sure," Matravers said, "that talent is the proper word to
use. One might almost call it genius."

Ellison was considerably mollified.

"I am glad to hear you say so," he declared. "At the same time I am
afraid her position will be rather an awkward one. She will lose some
money by the closing of the theatre, and I don't exactly see what
London house is open for her just at present. These actor-managers are
all so clannish, and they have their own women."

"I am sorry," Matravers said thoughtfully; "at the same time I cannot
believe that she will remain very long undiscovered! Good afternoon!
I am forgetting that I have some writing to do."

Matravers walked slowly back to his rooms, filled with a new and
fascinating idea which Ellison's words had suddenly suggested to him.
If it was true that his pen had done her this ill turn, did he not owe
her some reparation? It would be a very pleasant way to pay his debt
and a very simple one. By the time he had reached his destination the
idea had taken definite hold of him.

[Illustration: At half-past four his servant brought in a small
tea-equipage]

For several hours he worked at the revision of a certain manuscript,
polishing and remodelling with infinite care and pains. Not even
content with the correct and tasteful arrangement of his sentences, he
read them over to himself aloud, lest by any chance there should have
crept into them some trick of alliteration, or juxtaposition of words
not entirely musical. In his work he gained, or se