"Well?" said Wuff, who was working up into excitement. "Oh, I thought you did not care about it," said Trapman. "I've a letter from her here in my hand, saying she's taken a sudden desire to England, and wants me to get her an engagement in a first-class theatre. I've got newspapers by the same mail, describing her farewell benefit, and speculating, in the way those chaps do over there, about what can have made her want to go to England so suddenly. But there's no doubt she's a clipper, and I came at once to offer her to you." "I'll have her!" shouted Wuff, jumping up. "First-class theatre she wants, eh? This is the shop. Let's have a look at her letter?" "Can't do that,--it's a private letter," said Trapman; "but I'll tell you her terms: ten pound a-night settled, and a share after a hundred." "That'll do. Now, Tommy Bond, just sit down and write a stunnin' advertisement, and put that story about her being a nobleman's daughter into shape,--only make her run away because she was in love, and wanted to earn money for the support of her lover, who was blind.--Eh, Trapman, that ought to wake 'em up?--And send the story to little Shiffon, who does that column of lies, and ask him to stick it in next week.--What's her line, Trapman?" "Genteel comedy and interesting business of the highest class,--lady of the present day, you know." "All right; then I shan't want Buncle." "Not a bit; get rid of him at once. But I'll tell you what; Pontifex has quarrelled with the Parthenium people--he was with me yesterday--and I'd pick him up to support her." Mr. Wuff agreed to this, and told Mr. Trapman to take the necessary steps; and that gentleman then took his departure. "Wasn't going to let Wuff look at her letter," said he, as he walked away; "wouldn't do at all. What a doosed clever gal! What does she say?" and he pulled the letter from his pocket: "'Not a word to any one until after my appearance. After that I shan't care.' All right, my dear; you may depend upon me."