Eunice Terry was crying brokenly against a scene flat, but he offered her no word of comfort or condolence. He had seen Henry Churchill’s furious exit from the stalls, and he hoped he wouldn’t be long. “I am afraid you have done yourself very little good, Miss Terry,” he said. “I—I’ll never act again!” she sobbed. Then, at the psychological moment, when all the world was against her, came Henry Churchill, with a broad shoulder, to soak up her tears. “As for you, sir, to expose her to such—such brutal treatment,” he exploded over his enveloping arm, “if you were a younger man, I’d—I’d——” “Why?” said Eliphalet. “As it is, I shall take her away here and now. Yes, and if you sue us for breach of contract, we shall fight.” “Don’t fight,” said Eliphalet quietly. “Rather live happily ever afterwards.” “Go, dear, put on your things, and I’ll get you out of this.” “Yes, Henry.” And so anxiously did she obey his instructions that she took off her stage make-up and forgot to put on the one for the street. She even forgot the white fox in her haste to be off. Through his dressing-room window Eliphalet Cardomay watched Henry Churchill, still scarlet with indignation, place Mary Kent in a cab and drive away. “I have often remarked, Manning,” he said, “one gets very little thanks for doing things for people.” CHAPTER V GETTING THE BEST Despite his remark at the conclusion of the foregoing chapter it was not Eliphalet Cardomay’s habit to look for thanks, and on the rare occasions when it was offered he usually murmured something quite incoherent and sought to escape. His real lode-star was to obtain a result, and no amount of personal inconvenience counted in this most vital of all obligations. To obtain the best result from the material at hand was practically his religion. Not as a rule given to boasting, yet he might frequently be heard to say: “I can always be sure of getting the best from any member of my company, be it in or out of the theatre.” It was a harmless enough little foible and saved many an inept actor or actress from reproaches. Eliphalet would argue that even though the quality of art with which they served him was indifferent, it represented the high-water mark of which they were capable, and so he forebore to criticise. Like the martyrs of old, Eliphalet lived his ideals and was ready to uphold them by any sacrifice, as the succeeding episode goes to demonstrate. No first-class provincial touring company need despise the Pier Pavilion at Brestwater-super-Mare. It boasts a stage of bold proportions, a capacious be-mirrored and luxuriously-upholstered auditorium and a façade that compels instant admiration. The design, a happy mixture of all the exhibition buildings which have ever sprung into existence, combined with a strong vein of Moorish architecture, is a triumph of skill and ingenuity.