d
all her artist's lifetime was gone by.

As Margaret disappeared at last, softly repeating her lover's name,
while the conspirators began to fill the stage, the door of the box
opened quietly, and Lushington came and sat down close behind his
mother.

'Well?' she said, only half turning her head, for she knew it was he.
'What do you think?'

'You know what I think, mother,' he answered.

'You did not want her to do it.'

'I've changed my mind,' said Lushington. 'It's the real thing. It would
be a sin to keep it off the stage.'

Madame Bonanni nodded thoughtfully, but said nothing. A knock was heard
at the door of the box. Lushington got up and opened, and the dark
figure of the cadaverous maid appeared in the dim light. Before she had
spoken, Madame Bonanni was close to her.

'They are in the chorus,' said the maid in a low voice, 'and there is
some one behind the door, waiting. I think it will be now.'

That was all Lushington heard, but it was quite enough to awaken his
curiosity. Who was in the chorus? Behind which door was some one
waiting? What was to happen 'now'?

Madame Bonanni reflected a moment before she answered.

'They won't try it now,' she said, at last, very confidently.

The maid shrugged her thin shoulders, as if to say that she declined to
take any responsibility in the matter, and did not otherwise care much.

'Do exactly as I told you,' Madame Bonanni said. 'If anything goes
wrong, it will be my fault, not yours.'

'Very good, Madame,' answered the maid.

She went away, and Madame Bonanni returned to her seat in the front of
the box, without any apparent intention of explaining matters to
Lushington.

'What is happening?' he asked after a few moments. 'Can I be of any
use?'

'Not yet,' answered his mother. 'But you may be, by and by. I shall
want you to take a message to her.'

'To Miss Donne? When?'

'Have you ever been behind in this theatre? Do you know your way
about?'

'Yes. What am I to do?'

Madame Bonanni did not answer at once. She was scrutinising the faces
of the courtiers on the darkened stage, and wishing very much that
there were more light.

'Schreiermeyer is doing things handsomely,' Lushington observed. 'He
has really given us a good allowance of conspirators.'

'There are four more than usual,' said Madame Bonanni, who had counted
the chorus.

'They make a very good show,' Lushington observed indifferently. 'But I
did not think they made much noise