They spent a more or less uncomfortable ten minutes at the box office, where they were assured that, owing to the smallness of the theatre, visits to the artistes were not permitted. The manager at last appeared and began an explanation on similar lines. Henriette interrupted him. "Monsieur," she begged, "it is a great exception. There is something which Mademoiselle should know, something which it is very important for her to know, and I am the only person who can tell her. You will make an exception, please, this once?" The manager was quite human and a person of discrimination. He made no further difficulty. "If you will both please follow me," he invited. "Mademoiselle Larilly has just gone off." He led them by a tortuous way to the back of the stage and knocked at the door of a room. "_Entrez!_" was the shrill response. Their guide ushered Henriette and Aaron Rodd into a tiny little apartment, prettily furnished notwithstanding the bare floors. Mademoiselle Larilly was standing before a pier-glass, admiring herself. She swept round at their entrance. "Madame?" she murmured in surprise. The manager spoke a hasty word or two of explanation, in French, and disappeared. Henriette waited until the door was closed. Then she turned to the girl. "Mademoiselle," she said, "I owe you, perhaps, an apology for this unusual visit. I come for your sake as well as my own and another's. Will you tell me, please, who lent you the diamond which you wear?" The girl held it tightly to her bosom: "It has not been lent to me," she declared. "It is given." "But that is not possible," Henriette protested. "Do you know that the jewel you are wearing is worth nearly a million francs?" The girl started but she simply shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, la, la!" she exclaimed. "What do I care? It was given me by a gentleman, not an Englishman, and no one has any right to ask me questions about it. I do not receive here, mademoiselle. I have but a few minutes to rest. If you would please go." Henriette made efforts to modify the haughtiness of her tone, the air of aloofness with which she seemed shrouded. "Mademoiselle Larilly," she said, "I will not believe that you wish evil things to the gentleman who lent or gave you that jewel, yet, believe me, you will bring harm upon him if you wear it in public. You will bring a great--the greatest of all misfortunes." The girl opened her hands a little and gazed at the gem. She shook her head. "That I cannot help," she decided. "It is his affair. He must know better than you. I promised him to wear it. He may even be here to-night. I shall keep my word." "Mademoiselle----" Henriette began. Then the words died away on her lips. The door of the dressing-room had opened and closed without any knock. Mr. Paul Brodie stood there, suave and with a little smile upon his lips. He bowed politely--a gesture which seemed to include every one. Mademoiselle Larilly glanced at him contemptuously.