guisedly. His grey eyes
were creased with silent laughter.

"Colonel, you have _some_ nerve!" he said admiringly, and with no other
word he left the room.

CHAPTER II

JACK O' JUDGMENT--HIS CARD

The wrong side of a stage door was the outside on a night such as this
was. The rain was bucketing down and a chill north-wester howled up the
narrow passage leading from the main street to the tiny entry.

But the outside, and the darkest corner of the _cul-de-sac_ whence the
stage door of the Orpheum Music Hall was reached, satisfied Stafford
King. He drew further into the shadow at sight of the figure which
picked a finicking way along the passage and paused only at the open
doorway to furl his umbrella.

Pinto Silva, immaculately attired with a white rose in the button-hole
of his faultless dress-jacket, had no doubt in his mind as to which was
the most desirable side of the stage door. He passed in, nodding
carelessly to the doorkeeper.

"A rotten night, Joe," he said. "Miss White hasn't gone yet, has she?"

"No, sir," said the man obsequiously, "she's only just left the stage a
few minutes. Shall I tell her you're here, sir?"

Pinto shook his head.

He was a good-looking man of thirty-five. There were some who would go
further and describe him as handsome, though his peculiar style of good
looks might not be to everybody's taste. The olive complexion, the black
eyes, the well-curled moustache and the effeminate chin had their
attractions, and Pinto Silva admitted modestly in his reminiscent
moments that there were women who had raved about him.

"Miss White is in No. 6," said the doorkeeper. "Shall I send somebody
along to tell her you're here?"

"You needn't trouble," said the other, "she won't be long now."

The girl, hurrying along the corridor, fastening her coat as she came,
stopped dead at the sight of him and a look of annoyance came to her
face. She was tall for a girl, perfectly proportioned and something more
than pretty.

Pinto lifted his hat with a smile.

"I've just been in front, Miss White. An excellent performance!"

"Thank you," she said simply. "I did not see you."

He nodded.

There was a complacency in his nod which irritated her. It almost seemed
to infer that she was not speaking the truth and that he was humouring
her in her deception.

"You're quite comfortable?" he asked.

"Quite," she replied politely.

She was obviously anxious to end the interview, and at a l