"I wish I could think it the correct one," replied Copplestone. "But we can soon find out if it is--there's a telephone in the hall. Yet--I'm so sure that you're wrong, that I'm not even going to ring Norcaster up. Mr. Bassett Oliver has--disappeared here!" "Are you a member of his company?" asked Addie, again looking Copplestone over with speculative glances. "Not at all! I'm a humble person whose play Mr. Oliver was about to produce next month, in consequence of which I came down to see him, and to find this state of affairs. And--having nothing else to do--I'm now here to help to find him--alive or dead." "Oh!" said Addie. "So--you're a writer?" "I understand that you are an actress?" responded Copplestone. "I wonder if I've ever seen you anywhere?" Addie bowed her head and gave him a sharp glance. "Evidently not!" she retorted. "Or you wouldn't wonder! As if anybody could forget me, once they'd seen me! I believe you're pulling my leg, though. Do you live in town?" "I live," replied Copplestone slowly and with affected solemnity, "in chambers in Jermyn Street." "And do you mean to tell me that you didn't see me last year in _The Clever Lady Hartletop?_" she exclaimed. Copplestone put the tips of his fingers together and his head on one side and regarded her critically. "What part did you play?" he asked innocently. "Part? Why, _the_ part, of course!" she retorted. "Goodness! Why, I created it! And played it to crowded houses for nearly two hundred nights, too!" "Ah!" said Copplestone. "But I'll make a confession to you. I rarely visit the theatre. I never saw _Lady Hartletop._ I haven't been in a theatre of any sort for two years. So you must forgive me. I congratulate you on your success." Addie received this tribute with a mollified smile, which changed to a glance of surprised curiosity. "You never go to the theatre?--and yet you write plays!" she exclaimed. "That's queer, isn't it? But I believe writing people are queer--they look it, anyhow. All the same, you don't look like a writer--what does he look like, Mrs. Wooler? Oh, I know--a sort of nice little officer boy, just washed and tidied up!" The landlady, who had evidently enjoyed this passage at arms, laughed as she gave Copplestone a significant glance. "And when did you come down home, Addie?" she asked quietly. "I didn't know you were here again." "Came down Saturday night," said Addie. "I'm on my way to Edinburgh--business there on Wednesday. So I broke the journey here--just to pay my respects to my worshipful parent." "I think I heard you say that you knew Mr. Bassett Oliver?" asked Copplestone. "You've met him?" "Met him in this country and in America," replied Addie, calmly. "He was on tour over there when I was--three years ago. We were in two or three towns together at the same time--different houses, of course. I never saw much of him in London, though." "You didn't see anything of him yesterday, here?" suggested Copplestone.