swell, and the approaching tide
Will shortly fill the reasonable shores,
That now lie foul and muddy.'

The tenderness of this profound rebuke moved Rodd from his hatred of
the audience, and on an impulse he ran down and stood waiting outside
Verschoyle's box. He wanted to see him without precisely knowing why,
perhaps, he thought, only to make sure that Clara was safe.

The applause as the curtain descended was tumultuous. Sir Henry
bowed--to the right, to the left, to the centre. He made a little
speech.

'I am deeply gratified at the great welcome you have given our efforts
in the service of our poet. I am proud to have had the collaboration
of Mr Charles Mann, and to have had the good fortune to discover in
Miss Clara Day Ariel's very self. I thank you.'

The audience clamoured for Ariel, but she did not appear. She had
moved away to her dressing-room, and had torn off her sky blue and
silver net. She rent them into shreds, and her dresser, who had caught
the elated excitement that was running through the theatre, burst into
tears.

Rodd nearly swooned with anxiety when she did not appear, and he was
almost knocked over when Verschoyle, white to the lips, darted out of
the box.

'Sorry, sir,' he said, and was moving on when Rodd caught him by the
arm.

'Let me go, damn you,' said Verschoyle.

'I want to speak to you.'

Verschoyle recognised his man and said,--

'In God's name has anything happened?'

(Something had happened but they did not know it. In her
dressing-room, half way through the performance, she had found a note:--

'DEAR MADAM,--Either you grant me a profitable interview after the
performance or the police will be informed to-morrow morning.

'CLAUDE CUMBERLAND.')

'I only wanted,' said Rodd, 'to ask you to convey my very best wishes
to Miss Day. Just that. Nothing more.'

Verschoyle stared at him, and Rodd laughed.

'No. I am not what you think. I have been and am always at your
service. To-night has been one of the most wretched of her life. I
have been watching the performance. Butcher and his audience have been
too much for them.'

'But the success was hers.'

'You do not know her well, if you imagine that such a success is what
she desires.'

An attendant came up to them with a note from Clara enclosing
Cumberland's. Verschoyle handed it to Rodd, who crumpled it up and
said,--

'I knew that was the danger-point. Will you take me to see her?