“Sorry, Tab,” said the night editor, “the theatre man has ’flu. Won’t you go along and see the lady?” Tab snorted, but went. The dresser, hesitating, thought that Miss Ardfern was rather tired, and wouldn’t tomorrow do? “I’m tired, too,” said Tab Holland wearily, “and tell Miss Ardfern that I haven’t come to this darned theatre at eleven p.m. because I’m an autograph hunter, or because I’m collecting pictures of actresses I’m crazy about; I’m here in the sacred cause of publicity.” To the dresser, he was as a man who spoke a foreign language. Surveying him dubiously, she turned the handle of the stained yellow door, and standing in the opening, talked to somebody invisible. Tab had a glimpse of cretonne hangings, yawned and scratched his head. He was not without elegance, except in moments of utter tiredness. “You can come in,” said the dresser and Tab passed into a room that blazed with unshaded lights. Ursula Ardfern had made her change and was ready to leave the theatre except that her jacket was still hung on the back of one chair, and her cloth cloak with the blue satin lining was draped over another. She had in her hand a brooch which she was about to put into an open jewel-case. Tab particularly noticed the brooch. A heart-shaped ruby was its centre-piece. He saw her pin it to the soft lining of the lid and close the case. “I’m extremely sorry to worry you at this hour of the night, Miss Ardfern,” he said apologetically, “and if you’re annoyed with me, you have my passionate sympathy. And if you’re not mad at me, I’d be glad of a little sympathy myself, for I’ve been in court all day following the Lachmere fraud trial.” She had been a little annoyed. The set of her pretty face told him that when he came in. “And now you’ve come for another trial,” she half-smiled. “What can I do for you, Mr.----?” “Holland--Somers Holland of ‘The Megaphone’. The theatre reporter is sick and we got a rumor tonight from two independent sources that you are to be married.” “And you came to tell me! Now, isn’t that kind of you!” she mocked. “No, I am not going to be married. I don’t think I ever shall marry, but you need not put that in the newspaper, or people will think I am posing as an eccentric. Who is the lucky man, by-the-way?” “That is the identical question that I have come to ask,” Tab smiled. “I am disappointed,” her lips twitched. “But I am not marrying. Don’t say that I am wedded to my art, because I’m not, and please don’t say that there is an old boy and girl courtship that will one day materialize, because there isn’t. I just know nobody that I ever wanted to marry and if I did, I shouldn’t marry him. Is that all?” “That’s about all, Miss Ardfern,” said Tab. “I’m really sorry to have troubled you. I always say that to people I trouble, but this time I mean it.” “How did this information reach you?” she asked as she rose. Tab’s frown was involuntary.