Even a less impassive man than Edward Henry would have started at the coincidence of this remark. And Edward Henry started. Twenty minutes ago he had been idly dreaming of theatrical speculation, and now he could almost see theatrical speculation shimmering before him in the pale shifting rays of the cinematograph that cut through the gloom of the mysterious auditorium. "Oh!" And in this new interest he forgot the enigma of the ways of Providence. "Of course, you know, I’m in the business," said Mr. Bryany. "I’m Seven Sachs’s manager." It was as if he owned and operated Mr. Seven Sachs. "So I heard," said Edward Henry, and then remarked with mischievous cordiality: "And I suppose these chaps told you I was the sort of man you were after. And you got them to ask me in, eh, Mr. Bryany?" Mr. Bryany gave an uneasy laugh, but seemed to find naught to say. "Well, what is your little affair?" Edward Henry encouraged him. "Oh, I can’t tell you now," said Mr. Bryany. "It would take too long. The thing has to be explained." "Well, what about to-morrow?" "I have to leave for London by the first train in the morning." "Well, some other time?" "After to-morrow will be too late." "Well, what about to-night?" "The fact is, I’ve half promised to go with Dr. Stirling to some club or other after the show. Otherwise we might have had a quiet confidential chat in my rooms over the Turk’s Head. I never dreamt--" Mr. Bryany was now as melancholy as a greedy lad who regards rich fruit at arm’s length through a plate-glass window, and he had ceased to be patronising. "I’ll soon get rid of Stirling for you," said Edward Henry, turning instantly towards the doctor. The ways of Providence had been made plain to Edward Henry. "I say, Doc!" But the Doctor and Brindley were in conversation with another man at the open door of the box. "What is it?" said Stirling. "I’ve come to fetch you. You’re wanted at my place." "Well, you’re a caution!" said Stirling. "Why am I a caution?" Edward Henry smoothly protested. "I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t want to spoil your fun." Stirling’s mien was not happy. "Did they tell you I was here?" he asked. "You’d almost think so, wouldn’t you?" said Edward Henry in a playful, enigmatic tone. After all, he decided privately, his wife was right: it was better that Stirling should see the infant. And there was also this natural human thought in his mind: he objected to the doctor giving an entire evening to diversions away from home; he considered that a doctor, when not on a round of visits, ought to be forever in his consulting-room, ready for a sudden call of emergency. It was monstrous that Stirling should have proposed, after an escapade at the music-hall, to spend further hours with chance acquaintances in vague clubs! Half the town might fall sick and die while the doctor was vainly amusing himself. Thus the righteous layman in Edward Henry! "What’s the matter?" asked Stirling.