cond shaft. "He will be either with Miss
Lester or her ladyship; he fluctuates between these two points of
happiness as a rule."

Lady Constance did not appear perturbed in any way by this news.

"Lady Merivale is a charming woman," she said briefly. "But who is Miss
Lester?"

"She is also a charming woman," was the smooth reply; "but with the
difference that she is unattached--save to the theatre."

"Oh! an actress!" exclaimed his companion with patrician contempt. "That
reminds me," she continued. "What is your last success at the Casket?"

"_My_ success," echoed Mr. Vermont, with an air of pained astonishment.

"Yes, are you not the manager of that building?" she asked simply.

He bowed and smiled.

"No, Lady Constance," he said. "I fear the world gives me too much
credit. I have nothing to do with this whim of Adrien's save to pay out
the salaries for the company. The management is his--or rather, perhaps,
I should say, Miss Lester's; and I am not answerable for its failure or
its successes. I believe, too, he is about to give the whole place to
Miss Lester."

Lady Constance started almost unconsciously, and Jasper knew that his
words had hit home at last.

"I am sure you do your best to help him," she said, after a moment's
pause.

"You are most kind," he returned with a bow and an ironic smile. "I
trust you will let me prove my friendship both to Adrien and yourself."

CHAPTER XV

It was the night on which Adrien had returned to town. Jessica, ignorant
that he had ever left it, had found her way to his chambers, and waited
there patiently and hungrily in the hope of once more seeing him. As the
clock struck eight she decided that it was useless to remain any longer,
and accordingly retraced her steps through the crowded thoroughfares.

Anything would be better than waiting like this, she thought
despairingly.

After the silence of the deserted street, the crowds, pushing and
jostling her, brought her almost a feeling of satisfaction. Even if she
were alone, at least she could not be solitary while the world rushed
past her, in its eager search for pleasure.

At one point near Charing Cross a few curious loafers had collected on
either side of the brilliantly-lit facade of a theatre, over which, in
coloured lights, was the name, "The Casket."

As Jessica stood watching listlessly, indeed almost unconsciously, a
handsome motor rolled up before the imposing e