"Quick," cautioned David. "He's coming down the center aisle." The five young people crouched low while the actor stalked down the aisle. But it was plain he was not looking for his daughter in the theater, for he called out to one of the ushers moving about at a distance: "Have you seen anything of the young girl who was with the company? I lost her during the panic and I haven't been able to locate her since. I must be leaving town in a few minutes," he added, consulting his watch. "It's almost time for the train now." "The company all left with the audience," said the usher. "I guess she went along with 'em." "Now is our time," said Anne, when the actor had disappeared. "Suppose we go out the stage entrance and down that side street!" Whereupon she led the way back of the boxes and into the wings, followed by her friends, who looked curiously about them at the unusual sight. "What a queer place," said Grace, "and how smudgy the scenery looks! Are these little places dressing rooms, Anne?" "Yes," answered Anne. "You see, it's all horrid when you are close. And the life is worse--riding almost every day on smoky trains and spending each night in a different place. The people are so different, too. I would rather go to Oakdale High School," she exclaimed, "than be the greatest actress in the world." They were standing in one of the larger dressing rooms while Anne endeavored to wipe the powder and rouge from her face with a pocket handkerchief. A tall figure darkened the doorway, and in the glass Anne saw the reflection of her father's face. Without a word, she ran to the open window and jumped out on the fire escape. The others followed nimbly after her. Mr. Pierson turned and rushed down the passage to the side entrance. "Hurry, Anne!" called David. "He will meet you at the bottom if you don't." They climbed quickly down the ladder, almost treading on each other's fingers in their haste, and in another moment they were running down an alleyway. "Another narrow escape," cried Anne, when they were out of danger. "How shall I ever thank you, dear friends?" "You have already discharged the debt, Anne, by letting us see you act," answered Grace. "By the way, Grace," commanded David, "own up now. It was you, wasn't it, who started the fire panic?" "I told you I wouldn't tell," answered Grace, "and I never shall." "Anne, did she say anything about it in her note?" asked Nora. "No," said Anne mysteriously, "she never mentioned the word 'fire' at all." "I feel certain it was you who called 'fire,' Grace," said Jessica. "I'll never, never tell," cried Grace teasingly; "so you'll never, never know." She turned in at her own gate and to this day the mystery is still unsolved. CHAPTER XI MRS. GRAY'S ADOPTED DAUGHTERS