"Did she pick up those diamonds there?" asked the dark man, who was a Rhodesian called Darrel, and acquainted with stones of price. "No. Banjo Berry, who is her uncle, gave them to her. He's a rich man, and lavishes his money on his niece." "Why does he let her appear on the boards, then?" asked Darrel, heavily. "Ask Frank, here. He's a friend of Berry's." "I'm not," growled Lancaster, still ruffled by his late encounter. "I can't bear the creature. His niece is worth a dozen of him." "Is she his niece?" questioned the Rhodesian millionaire. "Yes. There's no doubt about that. I respect Miss Berry immensely." "I thought her name was Tait." "On the bills. In private she's Miss Fanny Berry. Her uncle is rich, but, in spite of that, she's so vain that she likes to appear on the stage. I like her, and--" "You're in love with her," contradicted Baird. "A trifle. Anyone would love such a pretty woman. But I wouldn't ask her to marry me." "No, Starth will do that." "She won't have him," said Frank, snappishly. "He's a bad lot." "A very sore lot at present," put in Baird, smiling. "It's his own fault," replied Lancaster. "Why can't he leave me alone. It's not the first time he's quarrelled with me." "Because he knows you are a rival in the affections of Fairy Fan." "Rubbish, Dicky! Don't get that bee in your bonnet. Starth can marry her for all I care. I merely admire her, and only came into contact with her when Berry wrote asking if I could write her a couple of songs. I came and saw, and--" "And she conquered," said Darrel. "Who is Berry? I fancy I've met him before. If he's the same man, he hasn't any morals." "We'll say principles," remarked Baird. "Berry's a fiery-tempered Tom Thumb, who talks 'American' slang through his nose concerning an interesting past of a superlatively shady description. 'Been a South Sea blackbirding skipper from the looks of him, and I expect he made his money in that way. Ever met him?" "Los Angeles, now I come to think of it," said Darrel. Frank looked up uneasily. "Who is he, anyhow?" "Don't know," responded the millionaire, imperturbably. "He was running an apple orchard when I dropped across him. Clean shot, too." Baird laughed. "Sounds like a retired pirate of sorts. But he's on the square now. He and Miss Berry have rooms in Bloomsbury, and go to church and have the entry of some decent houses. Frank knows all about them." "Only that she's a nice woman and a good woman, and that Berry is a ruffian. He won't let Starth marry her." "I hope not," said Darrel, darkly. "I've known Starth a long time, and he's a bounder. But he's got an uncommonly pretty sister, as beautiful and sweet-tempered as he is the reverse. Hush! Let's stick to the play; we're talking too much."