stol shot. Instantly all except the
cameramen turned on him quickly. He imagined little arrows darting at
him from their eyes, those little arrows cartoonists use to illustrate a
fixed stare by one of their subjects. Never had he seen such a look of
mingled pain and exasperation as crossed the face of "John J. Silence."
He stood stock-still, fearful that if he made another sound they would
pounce upon him and tear him limb from limb while "John J. Silence,"
completely overcome, writhed in agony on the floor.

By carefully testing the flooring each time before he put his full
weight on his foot, he managed to reach a point behind the cameras
without having that battery of aggravated eyes turned upon him again.
Now no one favored him even with a turn of the head. He saw that
Consuello was not in the group. The man in the canvas chair spoke,
softly, appealingly.

"Now, Miss Carrillo, you think of how happy you two were together--days
that are never to be again--he's gone--gone forever--that's it--tears
come up in your eyes--he's (deep voice) gone, (deeper voice) gone, (very
deep) g-o-n-e."

Risking those reprimanding eyes again, John stepped to one side to
enable himself to see around the man who was in front of him, blocking
his view of the set.

He saw Consuello, a strange, sad Consuello, her face ghastly pale under
the bluish white light, her naturally beautiful features hidden under a
mask of paint and powder, but Consuello, just the same. Heavy tears that
brimmed from her eyelids coursed down her cheek, sparkling in the glare
of the lamps. Her thickly rouged lips trembled; the fingers of one of
her hands, pressed tightly in her lap, beat wildly on the back of the
other beneath it.

She was seated in a large plush chair facing the cameras. She wore an
evening gown and her hair was arranged in a high coiffure that made her
look taller, older.

"Cut!" commanded the man in the horn-rim glasses. "That was splendid,
Miss Carrillo, splendid."

The cameras stopped grinding. Consuello rose--laughing. The orchestra
stopped abruptly. She came toward them, touching lightly at her cheeks
with a tiny handkerchief.

"It seems a shame to dry such perfectly real tears," she said.

Then she saw John and came to him, her hand outstretched. As if they
were controlled by a single mind and impulse the heads of everyone in
the group turned to him.

"I'm so glad you got here," she said.

CHAPTER X

"So that was your