I have been through that experience, and I prefer
not to meet the people who act in my pieces. I want their art, not their
views on human destiny or the best place to get lobster a la Newburg."

"Let us be practical for a moment, Searles," I urged. "Emperors,
presidents, and popular murderers are not more conspicuous than the
people of the stage. No girl talented enough to get two engagements,
even for small parts, in a first-class London theatre could vanish. With
your acquaintance in the profession you'd be able to trace her anywhere
on earth. By the way, what did the paragon call herself?"

"Violet Dewing was her stage name and the only name the managers knew
her by. I assumed that, of course, all I had to do was to finish my play
and then have Dalton, who represents me over there, make an appointment
to read it to her; but Dalton worked for three months trying to find
her, without success. She clearly wasn't the product of the provincial
theatres--hadn't any of the marks. I wasn't the only person who was
interested in her. Dalton said half a dozen managers had their eye on
her, but after 'Honourable Women' closed she stepped into the void. I
know what you're thinking--that the other members of the two companies
she appeared with must have had some inkling of her identity, but I tell
you Dalton and I exhausted the possibilities. It was by accident that
she got her chance in the pantomime--some one wouldn't do at the last
minute, and they gave Miss Dewing a trial. She was well liked by her
associates in spite of the fact that she was a bit offish and vanished
from their world the minute the curtain fell."

"A clever governess out of a job, satisfying a craving for excitement
and playing the mysterious role as part of the adventure. Am I to
assume that you've burned your play and that the incident is closed?"

"Oh, I didn't burn it; I have a copy locked in a safety vault, and
Dalton left one heavily sealed at a small exclusive London hotel where,
he found after much difficulty, the girl had lodged during her two
engagements."

"You're morbid," I said. "Show me her photograph."

He laughed ironically. "Never a chance, Singleton! You haven't yet got
the idea that this young woman is out of the ordinary. She refused to be
photographed--wrote it into her two contracts that this was not to be
asked. I never saw her off the stage, and I can't give you a description
of her that would be of the slightest assistance to the