APTER VI.

But far from being better the following morning, Denis was much worse.
Charles, who had sat up most of the night with him, and who came down to
breakfast more cool and indifferent than ever, at once extinguished any
hope that still remained that he would be able to take his part that
night.

Great was the consternation of the whole party. A vague feeling of
resentment against Denis prevailed among the womankind, who, having all
preserved their own healths intact for the occasion (and each by her own
account was a chronic invalid), felt it was extremely inconsiderate, not
to say indelicate, of "a great man like him" to spoil everything by
being laid up at the wrong moment.

But what was to be done? Denis was ill, and without Denis the play could
not proceed. Must the whole thing be given up? There was a general
chorus of lamentation.

"I see no alternative," said Charles, "unless some Curtius will leap
into the gulf, and go through the piece reading the part, and that is
always a failure at the best of times."

At that moment I had an idea; it broke upon me like a flash of
lightning: _Valentine Carr_! I had seen him act the very part Denis was
to have taken, in the theatricals on the steamer. How wonderfully
fortunate that it should have occurred to me!

I told Charles that I had a friend who had acted that part only the week
before.

"_You!_" cried Charles, losing all his customary apathy--"you don't say
so! Great heavens, where is he? Out with him! Where is he at this
moment? England, Ireland, Scotland, or Wales? Where is this treasure
concealed?"

"Oh, Colonel Middleton! Oh, how delightful!" cried a number of gentle
voices; and I was instantly surrounded, and all manner of questions put
to me. Would he come? Was he tall? And oh! _had_ he a beard? He had not
a beard, had he? because it would not do for the part. Did he act well?
When had he acted? Where had he acted?

Sir George interrupted the torrent of interrogation.

"Do you think he would come?" he asked.

"I am almost sure he would," I said; "he is a great friend of mine."

"It would be an exceedingly good-natured and friendly act," said Sir
George. "Charles--no, I mean Ralph--bring a telegraph form, and if you
will write a telegram at once, Middleton, I will send it to the station
directly. We shall have an answer by twelve o'clock, and until then we
will not give up all hope, though of course we must not count on your
friend being a