prevailed that Mr. Wyatt had gone home. But Mrs.
Coppered's distinguished air, her magnificent furs, her beauty, all had
their effect, and presently Duncan followed her into the hot, untidy
little office where the manager was to be found.

He was a pleasant, weary-looking man, who wheeled about from his desk
as they came in, and signed the page to place chairs.

"Mr. Wyatt," said Mrs. Coppered, with her pleasantest smile, "can you
give us five minutes?"

"I can give you as many as you like, madam," said the manager,
patiently, but with a most unpromising air.

"Only five!" she reassured him, as they sat down. Then, with an
absolutely businesslike air, she continued: "Mr. Wyatt, you have Mr.
and Mrs. Penrose in your company, I think, both very old friends of
mine. She's playing Mabel Vane,--Mary Archer is the name she uses,--and
he's Triplet. Isn't that so?"

The manager nodded, eying her curiously.

"Mr. Wyatt, you've heard of their trouble, of course? The accident this
morning to their little boy?"

"Ah, yes--yes," said Wyatt. "Of course. Hurt by a fall, poor little
fellow. Very serious. Yes, poor things! Did you want to see--"

"You know that one of your big surgeons here--I've forgotten the
name!--is to operate on little Phil tomorrow?" asked Mrs. Coppered.

"So Penrose said," assented the manager, slowly, watching her as if a
little surprised at her insistence.

"Mr. Wyatt." said Mrs. Coppered,--and Duncan noticed that she had
turned a little pale,--"Mrs. Penrose wired me news of all this only a
few hours ago. She is half frantic at the idea that she must go on
tomorrow afternoon and evening; yet the understudy is ill, and she felt
it was too short notice to ask you to make a change now. But it
occurred to me to come to see you about it. I want to ask you a favor.
I want you to let me play Mrs. Penrose's part tomorrow afternoon and
tomorrow night. I've played Mabel Vane a hundred times; it's a part I
know very well," she went on quickly. "I--I am not in the least afraid
that I can't take it. And then she can be with the little boy through
the operation and afterward--he's only five, you know, at the
unreasonable age when all children want their mothers! Can't that be
arranged, Mr. Wyatt?"

Duncan, holding a horrified breath, fixed his eyes, as he did, on the
manager's face. He was relieved at the inflexible smile he saw there.

"My dear lady," said Wyatt, kindly, "that is--absolutely--OUT of the
quest