ng out.

"I have decided I can't stand any more," Mr. Cowl remarked in a loud
whisper. "I hope you didn't mind me telling you about the Zacatecas. As I
said, I thought you might be interested. Good-bye. So pleasant to have met
you again, dear lady." His face had the same enigmatic smile which had made
him so formidable at Moze.

Musa had already begun to play the Spanish Symphony of Lalo, without which
no genius is permitted to make his formal debut on the violin in France.

CHAPTER XLIII

ENTR'ACTE

After the Spanish Symphony not only the conductor but the entire orchestra
followed Musa from the platform, and Audrey understood that the previous
interval had not really been an interval and that the first genuine
interval was about to begin. The audience seemed to understand this too,
for practically the whole of it stood up and moved towards the doors.
Audrey would have stayed in her seat, but Miss Ingate expressed a desire to
go out and "see the fun" in the foyer, and, moreover, she asserted that the
Foas from their box had been signalling to her and Audrey an intention to
meet them in the foyer. Miss Ingate was in excellent spirits. She said it
beat her how Musa's fingers could get through so many notes in so short a
time, and also that it made her feel tired even to watch the fingers. She
was convinced that nobody had ever handled the violin so marvellously
before. As for success, Musa had been recalled, and the applause from the
gallery, fired by its religious belief, was obstinate and extremely
vociferous. Audrey, however, was aware of terrible sick qualms, for she
knew that Musa was not so far dominating his public. Much of the applause
had obviously the worst quality that applause can have--it was
good-natured. Yet she could not accept failure for Musa. Failure would be
too monstrous an injustice, and therefore it could not happen.

The emptiness of the Foas' box indicated that Miss Ingate might be correct
in her interpretation of signals, and Audrey allowed herself to be led away
from the now forlorn auditorium. As they filed along the gangways she had
to listen to the indifferent remarks of utterly unprejudiced and
uninterested persons about the performance of genius, and further she had
to learn that a fair proportion of them were departing with no intention to
return. In the thronged foyer they saw Mr. Gilman, alone, before he saw
them. He was carrying a box of chocolates--doubtless one of the li