s
culmination, and I watched it with a glow of pride in Searles and his
skilful craftsmanship.

As the curtain fell and the lights went up amid murmurs of pleasure and
expectancy, I glanced across the rows of heads with awakened interest.
"Who Killed Cock Robin?" had been praised with such unanimity that if
Alice were in any playhouse that night I was as likely to see her in the
"As You Like It" as anywhere.

The half-turned face of a man three rows in front of me suddenly caught
my attention. There was something curiously familiar in his outlines and
the gesture with which, at the moment, he was drawing his handkerchief
across his forehead. I judged that he too had come late, for he now
removed his topcoat and thrust his hat under the seat. It was
Montani--beyond any question Montani--and I instinctively shrank in my
seat and lifted my programme as he turned round and swiftly surveyed the
rows behind him.

I watched his black head intently until I remembered the superstition
that by staring at a person in a public place you can make him look at
you. Montani knew a great many things I wanted to know, but I must have
time to adjust myself to the shock of his propinquity. I satisfied
myself that he was alone and as he continued to mop his face I judged
that he had arrived in some haste. The house now took note of a stirring
in one of the boxes. There was an excited buzz as the tall form and
unmistakable features of Cecil Arrowsmith, the English actor, were
recognized. I had read that day of his arrival in New York. With him
were two women. My breath came hard and I clutched the iron frame of the
seat in front of me so violently that its occupant turned and glared.

The trio settled into their places quickly, but not before I had
satisfied myself that Arrowsmith's companions were Alice and Mrs.
Farnsworth. As they fell into animated talk I saw that Alice was in her
gayest humor. The distinguished tragedian seemed greatly amused by what
she was saying to him.

"Must be members of Arrowsmith's company," one of my neighbors remarked.
"They open in two weeks in Shakespearian repertoire."

Montani had half risen, the better to focus an opera-glass on the box.
The gong solemnly announced the second act, and Alice moved her chair to
face the stage. Once more Montani scanned the party with his glass. As
the lights faded Alice, with the pretty languorous gesture I so well
remembered, opened her fan--the fan of ostrich plumes