Billing, my late manager."

"Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Billing," said Lionel mechanically. "I've
heard your name before."

"And I yours, Mr. Mortimer," replied Billing with genuine heartiness.
"It's a real pleasure to meet a man who can write like you."

"I don't understand," said Lionel. "How can you know anything of my
work? It's not attracted much notice yet."

Billing laughed.

"Shall I tell him?" he asked, turning to the lady.

"Bags I!" said Beatrice, laughing: "that must be my royalty, or
commission, if you prefer it. First of all, let me explain his presence.
He called on me this afternoon and found that I was out----"

"_As_ usual," interrupted Billing.

"And learned where I had gone from my servant. Then, being in a
hurry----"

"Wanted to try to persuade her to sign a new contract," said the
irrepressible Billing, "but she won't. Perhaps you can make her realize,
Mr. Mortimer, that if she retires the stage will lose one of its
brightest jewels."

"Oh, keep that for the publicity agent!" she begged. "I've told you I
mean to retire, and that's final. I want to tell the _news_. Well, Mr.
Mortimer, the impetuous man couldn't wait, so he went down to Brooklands
and flew here----"

"Quicker than the train," smiled Billing. "American hustle and all
that----"

"And now he tells me--as a casual item of information--that he's going
to produce your play."

"_What!_" said Lionel.

"Yes--yes--yes! Isn't it splendid? Now, Ashford, you can tell the rest."

"Guess there isn't much left to tell," said Billing, still smiling.
"Well, sir, Miss Blair told me about your play a month ago now. My
reader reported favorably on it, and I read it myself. I think it will
go, Mr. Mortimer, if I'm any judge; and when you get back to London we
can fix up the contract. I hope it will mean something hot for both of
us."

Lionel turned, incapable of speech, to Beatrice. He thanked her with his
eyes, but more than thanks lay in them, and Billing noticed the mutual
look with an inward groan. There was silence for a moment. Then Billing
squared his shoulders, and in a matter-of-fact voice said, "Well, I
calculate I must be getting home."

Beatrice protested. There was not the least hurry. There was no sense in
this flying over to see them and only staying for ten minutes. He must
stop and have dinner: why not sleep?...

"You forget I don't know your sister," he replied with a peculiar smile.
Beatrice blushed. Lionel d