‘How d’ye do, Sir Watkin? glad to see you. You have not been much with us of late.’
‘No,’ replied the Baronet; ‘I’ve been busy elsewhere. You’ve got a good house to-night. A good deal of paper, I suppose?’
‘I am glad to hear that. How do you account for it?’
‘Sir Watkin, I am surprised you ask such a question when you see what a star we’ve got.’
‘Oh, Miss Howard. Not bad. I should like to speak to her.’
And they made their way to the back, cold and draughty, and very disenchanting, as the workmen were shifting the scenes.
‘Take care, Sir Watkin. Mind that trapdoor. Look out, Sir Watkin!’ and suchlike exclamations were uttered by the manager as one danger after another threatened. The scene-shifters, very dirty, were numerous. There a ballet-girl was talking to an admirer, as she was waiting her turn. There another was by herself practising the step which was, in a few minutes, to crown her with well-deserved applause. In the midst of them presently Miss Howard appeared. The manager hastened to introduce his old friend, who, with his hat off, was preparing one of the polite speeches for which men of the world are famous, and by means of which, occasionally, they ensnare a woman.
‘Permit an old friend to offer Miss Howard his congratulations on her great success this evening.’
The lady thus addressed coldly bowed, but uttered never a word.
The situation was embarrassing. Fain would the Baronet have detained the actress.
‘Rose,’ he said passionately, ‘one word!’
But before he could utter another he found himself face to face with Wentworth, who, as usual, had come to see the actress home.
‘Yes, and why not?’ said the latter angrily.
‘Yes, why not? Do you think I am to be balked by a fellow like you?’
‘Say that again,’ said Wentworth, ‘and I’ll break every bone in your body.’
‘Gentlemen, gentlemen,’ exclaimed the manager, ‘pray be quiet! Sir Watkin, come along with me.’
The manager was in a dilemma. He would not for the world offend the Baronet, who had often aided him with money, and at the same time he was afraid of the press, of which Wentworth was a representative. As he said afterwards, he felt as if he were between the devil and the deep sea. His aim was to offend no one who could be of any use.