he form of a final grand dress-rehearsal to-night.
Again, in conformance with his custom, he has honoured me with a bid.
I've been chasing you all day to find out if you'd care to go--"

"Eight o'clock and a bit after," Whitaker interrupted briskly,
consulting his watch. "Here, boy," he hailed a passing page; "call a
taxicab for me." And then, rising alertly: "Come along; I've got to
hustle home and make myself look respectable enough for the occasion;
but at that, with luck, I fancy we'll be there before the first
curtain."

This mood of faith, of self-reliance and assured optimism held unruffled
throughout the dash homewards, his hurried change of clothing and the
ride to the theatre. Nothing that Ember, purposely pessimistic, could
say or do availed to diminish the high buoyancy of his humour. He
maintained a serene faith in his star, a spirited temper that refused to
recognize obstacles in the way of his desire.

In the taxicab, en route to the Theatre Max, he contrived even to distil
a good omen from the driving autumnal downpour itself.... The rain-swept
pavements, their polished blackness shot with a thousand strands of
golden brilliance; the painted bosom of the lowering, heavy sky; the
tear-drenched window-panes; even the incessant crepitation on the roof
of the scurrying, skidding cab seemed to lend a colour of assurance to
his thoughts.

"On such a day as this," he told his doubting friend, "I won her first;
on such a day I shall win her anew, finally and for all time!..."

From Broadway to Sixth Avenue, Forty-sixth Street was bright with the
yellow glare of the huge sign in front of the Theatre Max. But this
night, unlike that other night when he had approached the stage of his
wife's triumphs, there was no crawling rank of cabs, no eager and
curious press of people in the street; but few vehicles disputed their
way; otherwise the rain and the hurrying, rain-coated wayfarers had the
thoroughfare to themselves.... And even this he chose to consider a
favourable omen: there was not now a public to come between him and his
love--only Max and her frightened fancies.

The man at the door recognized Ember with a cheerful nod; Whitaker he
did not know.

"Just in time, Mr. Ember; curtain's been up about ten minutes...."

The auditorium was in almost total darkness. A single voice was audible
from the stage that confronted it like some tremendous, moonlight canvas
in a huge frame of tarnished gold. They stol