“Please _do_ sit down,” said Stella. “It’s a very uncomfortable chair, but most of the chairs here are uncomfortable. They tell me you have been ‘doubling’ for me?” “‘Doubling’?” said Adele, puzzled. “Yes, Mr. Knebworth said he was ‘doubling’ you. You know what I mean: when an artiste can’t appear, they sometimes put in an understudy in scenes where she’s not very distinctly shown—long shots——” “But Mr. Knebworth took me close up,” said the girl quietly. “I was only in one long shot.” Miss Mendoza masked her anger and sighed. “Poor old chap! He’s very angry with me, and really, I oughtn’t to annoy him. I’m coming back to-morrow, you know.” The girl went pale. “It’s fearfully humiliating for you, I realize, but, my dear, we’ve all had to go through that experience. And people in the studio will be very nice to you.” “But it’s impossible,” said Adele. “Mr. Knebworth told me I was to be in the picture from start to finish.” Mendoza shook her head smilingly. “You can never believe what these fellows tell you,” she said. “He’s just told me to be ready to shoot to-morrow morning on the South Downs.” Adele’s heart sank. She knew that was the rendezvous, though she was not aware of the fact that Stella Mendoza had procured her information from the disgruntled Mr. Connolly. “It _is_ humiliating,” Stella went on thoughtfully. “If I were you, I would go up to town and stay away for a couple of weeks till the whole thing has blown over. I feel very much to blame for your disappointment, my dear, and if money is any compensation——” She opened her bag and, taking out a wad of notes, detached four and put them on the table. “What is this for?” asked Adele coldly. “Well, my dear, you’ll want money for expenses——” “If you imagine I’m going to London without seeing Mr. Knebworth and finding out for myself whether you’re speaking the truth——” Mendoza’s face flamed. “Do you suggest I’m lying?” She had dropped all pretence of friendliness and stood, a veritable virago, her hands on her hips, her dark face thrust down into Adele’s. “I don’t know whether you’re a liar or whether you are mistaken,” said Adele, who was less afraid of this termagant than she had been at the news she had brought. “The only thing I’m perfectly certain about is that for the moment this is my room, and I will ask you to leave it!” She opened the door, and for a moment was afraid that the girl would strike her; but the broad-shouldered Irish dresser, a silent but passionately interested spectator and audience, interposed her huge bulk and good-humouredly pushed the raging star into the corridor. “I’ll have you out of there!” she screamed across the woman’s shoulder. “Jack Knebworth isn’t everything in this company! I’ve got influence enough to fire Knebworth!”