"I'm feeling sick with fright," she replied, giving him a wavering
smile.

Max laughed easily.

"Of course. Otherwise you wouldn't be the artiste that you are. But
it will all go the moment you're on the platform."

She looked up at him with a faint hope in her eyes.

"Do you really think so?" she whispered.

"I'm sure. It always does," he lied cheerfully. "I'll tell you who is
far more nervous than you are, and that's the Rector. Miss Stair and
Jerry were almost forcibly holding him down in his seat when I left
them. He's disposed to bolt out of the hall and await results at the
hotel."

Diana laughed outright.

"How like him! Poor Pobs!"

"You'd better give him a special smile when you get on the platform to
reassure him," continued Max, his blue eyes smiling down at her.

The violin solo had drawn to a close--Kirolski had already returned a
third time to bow his acknowledgments--and Errington was relieved to
see that the look of strain had gone out of her face, although she
still appeared rather pale and shaken.

One or two friends of the violinist's were coming in at the door of the
artistes' room as Olga Lermontof preceded him down the platform steps.
There was a little confusion, the sound of a fall, and simultaneously
some one inadvertently pushed the door to. The next minute the
accompanist was the centre of a small crowd of anxious, questioning
people. She had tripped and stumbled to her knees on the threshold of
the room, and, as she instinctively stretched out her hand to save
herself, the door had swung hack trapping two of her fingers in the
hinge.

A hubbub of dismay arose. Olga was white with pain, and her hand was
so badly squeezed and bruised that it was quite obvious she would be
unable to play any more that day.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Quentin," she murmured faintly.

In her distress about the accident, Diana had for the moment overlooked
the fact that it would affect her personally, but now, as Olga's words
reminded her that the accompanist on whom she placed such utter
reliance would be forced to cede her place to a substitute, her former
nervousness returned with redoubled force. It began to look as though
she would really be unable to appear, and Baroni wrung his hands in
despair.

It was a moment for speedy action. The audience were breaking into
impatient clapping, and from the back of the hall came an undertone of
stamping, and the sound of umbrellas banging on the