senberg, who, being quite by chance, in front of the
house, perceived he was drunk, the moment he came on the stage. She
flew to the wings, and, just in the nick of time, got two of the
supers to haul him out of the tank. Of course, it was announced--with
a pretty apology--by Mr. Hamar, that Mr. Curtis had been taken ill.
Kelson immediately came on with his animals, and the audience departed
without the slightest suspicion as to the truth.

Hamar was furious.

"You idiot!" he said to Curtis, "that all comes of your making a beast
of yourself--you would sacrifice Matt and me, for your insatiable
craving for meat and alcohol. Can't you see it was a trick of the
Unknown to make us break the compact? Had you been drowned, the
partnership, would, of course, have been dissolved--and it would have
been your fault! You must obey your injunctions! Damn it, you must!"
And Hamar spoke so fiercely that Curtis was for once in a way cowed,
and solemnly promised that he would not repeat the offence.

Kelson was the next culprit; and his misdoings were indirectly
associated with the foregoing incident. Lilian Rosenberg's action in
saving Curtis's life, thrilled him to the core, and called into play
all his ardent passion. He had seen her sitting in the front of the
house, and had come upon the scene just as she was urging the supers
to go to Curtis's assistance; and he then thought she had never looked
so lovely.

"Come out with me to-morrow afternoon," he whispered. "Hamar's going
out of town!" And before she could stop him he had kissed her.

Kelson hardly expected Lilian Rosenberg would accept his invitation,
but on arriving at the place he had named, he was delighted beyond
measure to find her there.

Nor could anyone have been nicer to him. No girl, he told himself, who
did not in some degree at least, reciprocate his sentiments, could
have allowed him to stare into her eyes as she did, or squeeze her
hands, as he did. He took her to the ladies' drawing-room of his club,
where there were plenty of quiet, secluded nooks, and there, whilst
she poured out tea for him, he once more related to her all his early
deeds and ailments--real and imaginary--and all his ideals and
aspirations.

Lilian Rosenberg was most sympathetic.

"You should have been a poet," she said. "There is something about you
that is quite Byronic."

And Kelson, who had never even heard of Byron, was immensely
flattered.

"Will you come to the jeweller