the
longing of the greatest dramatic poet in the world, he discovered in
one of them precisely the piece of apparatus he required--namely, a
slip of paper suitable for writing. It was a carbon duplicate of the
bill for the dressing-gown, and showed the word "Drook" in massive
printed black, and the figures L4, 4s. in faint blue. He drew a pencil
from his waistcoat and inscribed on the paper:

"Go out, and then come back in a couple of minutes and tell me someone
wants to speak to me urgently in the next room."

With a minimum of ostentation he gave the document to Joseph, who,
evidently well trained under Sir Nicholas, vanished into the next room
before attempting to read it.

"I hope," said Edward Henry to Carlo Trent, "that this money-making
play is reserved for the new theatre?"

"Utterly," said Carlo Trent.

"With Miss Euclid in the principal part?"

"Rather!" sang Mr. Marrier. "Rather!"

"I shall never, never appear at any other theatre, Mr. Machin!" said
Rose, with tragic emotion, once more feeling with her fingers along
the back of her chair. "So I hope the building will begin at once. In
less than six months we ought to open."

"Easily!" sang the optimist.

Joseph returned to the room, and sought his master's attention in a
whisper.

"What is it?" Edward Henry asked irritably. "Speak up!"

"A gentleman wishes to know if he can speak to you in the next room,
sir."

"Well, he can't."

"He said it was urgent, sir."

Scowling, Edward Henry rose. "Excuse me," he said. "I won't be a
moment. Help yourselves to the liqueurs. You chaps can go, I fancy."
The last remark was addressed to the gentlemen-in-waiting.

The next room was the vast bedroom with two beds in it. Edward Henry
closed the door carefully, and drew the _portiere_ across it. Then he
listened. No sound penetrated from the scene of the supper.

"There _is_ a telephone in this room, isn't there?" he said to Joseph.
"Oh, yes, there it is! Well, you can go."

"Yes, sir."

Edward Henry sat down on one of the beds by the hook on which hung
the telephone. And he cogitated upon the characteristics of certain
members of the party which he had just left. "I'm a 'virgin mind,'
am I?" he thought. "I'm a 'clean slate'? Well!... Their notion of
business is to begin by discussing the name of the theatre! And they
haven't even taken up the option! Ye gods! 'Intellectual'! 'Muses'!
'The Orient Pearl.' And she's fifty--that I swear! Not a word yet