Possible headlines from the morrow's newspapers danced before his eyes: "NERVOUS COLLAPSE OF MISS DIANA QUENTIN," "SIGNOR BARONI'S NEW PRIMA DONNA FAILS TO MATERIALISE." "_Diavolo_!" he exclaimed distractedly.

"But what shall we do?
What shall we do ?" "What is the matter ?" At the sound of the cool, level tones the little agitated group of three in the artistes' room broke asunder, and Baroni hurried towards the newcomer.
"Mr.Errington, we are in despair--" And with a gesture towards Diana he briefly explained the predicament.
Max nodded, his keen eyes considering the shrinking figure leaning against the wall.
"Don't worry, Baroni," he said quietly.

"I'll pull her round." Then, as a burst of applause crashed out from the hall, he whispered hastily: "Get Kirolski to give an encore.

It will allow her a little more time." Baroni nodded, and a minute or two later the audience was cheering the violinist's reappearance, whilst Errington strode across the room to Diana's side.
"How d'you do ?" he said, holding out his hand exactly as though nothing in the world were the matter.

"I thought you'd allow me to come round and wish you luck, so here I am." He spoke in such perfectly normal, everyday tones that unconsciously Diana's rigid muscles relaxed, and she extended her hand in response.
"I'm feeling sick with fright," she replied, giving him a wavering smile.
Max laughed easily.
"Of course.