one, then another of the gowns hanging on their hooks.
"I wish you was in 'em," the little old woman exclaimed. She replaced the pin, then surreptitiously removed some expensive cologne from a large bottle, transferring the perfume to a smaller bottle which she took from her pocket, dabbed her nose with Lilas's powder-puff, and began laying out her enemy's next change of costume.
Lorelei had left a handful of silver carelessly exposed, and, discovering this, Mrs. Croft counted it. The pile was sufficiently large to reassure her, so she abstracted two quarters; then, in an excess of caution, returned one coin and took a dime in its place.
CHAPTER VI
Lorelei did not secure another word alone with the dresser until the middle of the second act, by which time Mrs. Croft was her own colorless, work-worn self once more.
"I don't know no more than I told you," she informed Lorelei. "Mr. Melcher has been coming here for a long time, and he always talks about Mr. Hammon. I've heard enough to know that him and her is after his money—millions of it. Mister Jim can tell you everything, for he's talked about it, too, when you were on the stage. Lilas mentioned him to-night when her and him was talking over the flesh-light photographs. She said—Oh, Gawd!—" Mrs. Croft broke off her narrative suddenly, and, falling to her knees in a prayerful attitude, began nervously arranging the long row of foot-gear under Miss Lynn's table. The next instant the owner herself burst into the room, panting from a swift run up the stairs.
"Quick, Croft! Don't be all thumbs, now." She tossed a sealed letter upon her table, rapidly unhooked her dress, and stepped out of it, then into a flame-colored velvet gown which the old woman held for her. She set a tremendous plumed hat upon her head, impaled it deftly, patted her hair into more becoming shape, and then seated herself, extending her feet for a change of slippers. She took the moment to open and read her note.
Lorelei looked up from her sewing at a little cry of rage from Lilas. Miss Lynn had torn the message into bits and flung it from her; her eyes were blazing.
"Damn him!" she cried, furiously, rising so abruptly as almost to upset
Mrs. Croft. "The idiot!"
"What is it?"
"I—must telephone—quick." Half-way to the door she halted at
Lorelei's warning:
"Wait; you haven't time."
"Damn!" repeated the elder girl. "I must; or—Lorelei, dear, will you do me a favor? Run down to the door and telephone for me? I won't be off again till the curtain, and that will be too late." Lorelei rose obediently. "That's a dear. Call Tony the Barber's place—I—I've forgotten the number—anyhow, you can find it, and ask for Max. Tell him it's off; he can't come."
"Who can't come? Max?" "No. Just say, 'Lilas sends word that it's off; he can't come.' He'll understand. Run quick, or you won't catch him, and—He'll kill me if I let him go. I'll call him later, to-night—There's my cue now. Just ask for Max, and don't use his last name. Thanks. I'll do as much for you." Lilas was off with a rush, and Lorelei hastened after her, speculating vaguely as to the cause of all this anxiety.
The telephone at the back of the Circuit Theater was located inside the stage-door and occupied one end of the shelf which separated Mr. Regan's hole in the wall from the entrance-hall. It was no place in which to conduct a private conversation, since any one coming or going could hear, but stage telephones are not installed for the convenience of performers.
As Lorelei hurried down the passageway a man in evening dress turned, and she recognized Robert Wharton.
"You are sent from heaven!" he cried, at sight of her. "I enter out of the night and unburden my heart to this argus-eyed watchman, and, lo! you come flying in answer to my wish. Quick service, Judge. In appreciation of your telepathy I present you with some lumbago cure." He tossed a bank-note to Regan, who snatched it eagerly on the fly.
Lorelei forestalled further words. "Please—I must telephone. I go on in a minute."
"Fairy Princess, last night I was a goldfish; to-night I am an enchanted lover—"
"Wait; I'm in a hurry." She thumbed the telephone-book swiftly in search of her number, but young Wharton was not to be silenced.
"Tell him it's all off," he commanded. "You can't go; I won't let you.
Promise." He laid a hand upon the telephone and eyed her gravely.
"Don't thwart me—I'm a dangerous man. You can't use our little 'phone
unless—"
"Don't be silly. I'm telephoning for some one else."
"That's exactly what we can't permit. The 'some one else' is here—I'm it."
"No, no!"
He closed one eye and wagged his head, grasping the instrument more firmly.
"Promise to tell him—It IS a 'him,' isn't it? Aha' My intelligence is sublime. Promise."
"I slapped you last night; I promise to do it again," Lorelei told him, sharply.
"Something whispered that you did, and all day long I have been angry; but to-night—now that I'm in my natural condition—I pass the insult. I offer you my hand and my other cheek in case you want to try a left hook. But I come with another purpose. Outside is a chariot with ninety horses—French rating—champing at the throttle. We are going away from here."
"You're drunk again, Mr. Wharton?"
He glanced at the clock over Regan's head and shook his head in negation. "It's only ten-twenty. In two hours from now—"
"Give me that 'phone."
"Promise to tell him it's all off."
She smiled. "All right. I'll use those very words."
Wharton hesitated. "I trust you."
"I'm going to tell him he can't come," she said, holding out her hand.
Once the instrument was hers she oscillated the hook with nervous finger, staring doubtfully at the cause of her delay. Wharton, as on the evening before, carried his intoxication with an air. He was steady on his feet, immaculate in dress, punctilious in demeanor; only his roving, reckless eye betrayed his unnatural exhilaration.
The Judge had enjoyed the scene. He chuckled; he clicked his loose false teeth like castanets. Bob turned at the sound and regarded him with benignant interest, his attention riveted upon the old man's dental infirmity.
"You're quite a comedian," Regan wheezed.
"Click 'em again," said Bob, pleasantly. "Wonderful! Age has its compensations. Play 'Home, Sweet Home' when you get 'em tuned up. Or perhaps they are for sale?"
Lorelei secured her number and was surprised to recognize her brother's voice. She made herself known, to Jim's equal amazement, and then inquired:
"Is Max there?"
"Sure. He's outside in the automobile."
"Call him, please."
"What do you want of him? How'd you know I was here?"
"Never mind. Call him quickly."
During the wait Wharton ejaculated: "Ha! 'Jim,' 'Max.' Men's names! Mr. Regan, kindly grind your teeth for me. No? Will you grind them for a dollar? Jealousy business. Thanks."
At last Melcher's voice came over the wire, and Lorelei recited her message. There was a moment of silence, then she explained how she came to be talking instead of Lilas.
He thanked her and she heard him muttering as he hung up. She turned to find her annoyer nodding with satisfaction.
"Splendid!