deavour to do so.'

Henry thanked him lamely.

'Of course I shan't play in it myself,' added Mr. Pilgrim, laughing as
one laughs at a fantastic conceit.

'No, naturally not,' said Henry.

'Nor will Jane,' said Mr. Pilgrim.

Jane Map was Mr. Pilgrim's leading lady, for the time being.

'And about terms, young man?' Mr. Pilgrim demanded, folding his arms.
'What is your notion of terms?'

Now, Henry had taken the precaution of seeking advice concerning fair
terms.

'One pound a performance is my notion,' he answered.

'I never give more than ten shillings a night for a curtain-raiser,'
said Mr. Pilgrim ultimatively, 'Never. I can't afford to.'

'I'm afraid that settles it, then, Mr. Pilgrim,' said Henry.

'You'll take ten shillings?'

'I'll take a pound. I can't take less. I'm like you, I can't afford to.'

John Pilgrim showed a faint interest in Henry's singular--indeed,
incredible--attitude.

'You don't mean to say,' he mournfully murmured, 'that you'll miss the
chance of having your play produced in my theatre for the sake of half a
sovereign?'

Before Henry could reply to this grieved question, Jane Map burst into
the room. She was twenty-five, tall, dark, and arresting. John Pilgrim
had found her somewhere.

'Jane,' said Mr. Pilgrim sadly, 'this is Mr. Knight.'

'Not the author of _The Plague-Spot_?' asked Jane Map, clasping her
jewelled fingers.

'_Are_ you the author of _The Plague-Spot_?' Mr. Pilgrim
whispered--'whatever _The Plague-Spot_ is.'

The next moment Jane Map was shaking hands effusively with Henry. 'I
just adore you!' she told him. 'And your _Love in Babylon_--oh, Mr.
Knight, how _do_ you think of such beautiful stories?'

John Pilgrim sank into a chair and closed his eyes.

'Oh, you must take it! you must take it!' cried Jane to John, as soon as
she learnt that a piece based on _Love in Babylon_ was under discussion.
'I shall play Enid Anstruther myself. Don't you see me in it, Mr.
Knight?'

'Mr. Knight's terms are twice mine,' John Pilgrim intoned, without
opening his eyes. 'He wants a pound a night.'

'He must have it,' said Jane Map. 'If I'm in the piece----'

'But, Jane----'

'I insist!' said Jane, with fire.

'Very well, Mr. Knight,' John Pilgrim continued to intone, his eyes
still shut, his legs stretched out, his feet resting perpendicularly on
the heels. 'Jane insists. You understand--Jane insists. Take your pound,
I call the first rehearsal for Monday.'

T