el was too well-bred to interpose bourgeois objections. Besides, it
was a case of necessity: his sixpence-ha'penny had been burning a hole
in his pocket for the last ten minutes.

"Fair lady," he said lightly, "I would if I could, but I can not. Five
shillings will be more than enough."

She gave him half a sovereign, and he wished he had been a street arab
to whom she could have said, "And keep the change." This, however, was
clearly impossible, nor did it appear to enter the lady's head. After he
had paid the man she received the balance with a careless gravity. He
raised his hat.

"You are not going?" she asked in surprise.

"Unless I can be of further service."

"But that is why I have brought you here! You have not heard my reason
yet, and you must--at least in justice to myself. This is only the
beginning: you can be of the greatest service if you will. Come!"

Lionel followed her through the stage-door. Adventure beckoned, and he
was not the man to disobey the seductive finger. True, the lady had a
husband--a scurvy thought--but he had proved himself as strong as she.
And she was deucedly pretty.

They passed the janitor, who touched his hat to the lady, and went along
a passage. Then up a flight of stairs and down another corridor, where
sundry couples were lounging and chatting between their entrances. It
was evidently a costume play, and the sight of doublets, rapiers and
helmets was a pleasant thing after the drabness of the threshold.
Illusion again threw her veil over the crudities of life; romance
sounded the horn of hope and hallooed Lionel to the pursuit.

The lady stopped suddenly before a door. This she opened and entered the
room beyond. Lionel followed, closed the door, and looked about him. He
was no stranger to the regions "behind," for in his younger days he had
been the friend of many actors and actresses not a few. With the
dressing-rooms of the men he was well acquainted,--those dingy
color-washed chambers, lighted by flaring gas, divided by racks for
dresses, equipped at times with but the washing-basin, stifling of
atmosphere, with little room to turn about in. In his younger days, as
has been observed, he had savored the delights of these unromantic
barracks, and had thoroughly enjoyed the experience; now he was blase.

Of the women's dressing-rooms he was ignorant, but in truth he was far
from curious. He supposed they were something of a replica of what he
had seen already,--four