st group of her own songs.

For an instant the room swayed round her, then with a little gasp she
clutched Baroni's arm.

"I can't do it! . . . I can't do it!" Her voice was shaking, and
every drop of colour had drained away from her face.

Baroni turned instantly, his eyes full of concern.

"My dear, but that is nonsense. You _cannot help_ doing it--you know
those songs inside out and upside down. You need haf no fear. Do not
think about it at all. Trust your voice--it will sing what it knows."

But Diana still clung helplessly to his arm, shivering from head to
foot, and Madame de Louvigny hurried across the room and joined her
assurances to those of the old _maestro_. She also added a
liqueur-glass of brandy to her soothing, encouraging little speeches,
but Diana refused the former with a gesture of repugnance, and seemed
scarcely to hear the latter. She was dazed by sheer nervous terror,
and stood there with her hands tightly clasped together, her body rigid
and taut with misery.

Baroni was nearly demented. If she should fail to regain her nerve the
whole concert would he a disastrous fiasco. 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.