And indeed Macandrew's prophecy proved to be a correct one. When the curtain drew up on the forest scene, in which Charity had figured for so many nights as a Moon-Fay, everything went excellently. The wandering lover, who was searching for his peasant love, chased the moonbeams as usual--these were electric lights--and when they gathered into one radiance of white, and he fell on his knees, invoking the Fairy of the Moon to assist him in his search, Mavis, arrayed in filmy, vaporous robes of snow, stepped calmly on to the stage. She had altered the dress a little as she thought Charity's robes were a trifle scanty. The wardrobe mistress and the manager had remonstrated on the change, and could not understand why Miss Charity Bird had altered her mind about the dress when the ballet was nearing its end. But they never suspected the truth, as Mavis, a born actress, had mimicked Charity's speech and gesture in private life. So she appeared in a kind of Greek dress worn long, and sparkling with silver. Her hair was crowned with a diadem of crystals, and with her pure face uplifted in the glory of the light she looked indeed like a spirit. The audience, as did the stage hands and the manager, thought still that they saw Charity Bird; but all the same they felt, in a puzzled way, that there was something different in the girl. What would they have said had they known that the Moon-Fay was being sought for far and wide, as a lunatic and a murderess. But no one dreamed of such a thing, and Gerald would not have winced even had Rebb himself been present. But the Major was not there, as he had more important matters to attend to; and moreover there was no need that he should come, seeing that he was ignorant of the dancer's identity. In the dark scenic forest, and amidst the soft radiance of the electric lights, Mavis danced as she had been instructed by Charity, so as to swing in time to the music, but also she introduced something of the mystic element she had displayed when Gerald had beheld her swaying in the grounds of the Pixy's House. She floated across the wide stage like a veritable moonbeam, beckoned to the lover, bent over him like a fair white angel, and finally melted into a mist. This was contrived by gauze screens, a clever device, which had been much commented upon by the Press. When the Moon-Fay vanished there was a burst of applause. Charity always had been applauded for her dance, but never had the audience been so hearty in showing their appreciation as on this night. But Charity was not at all jealous for the attention bestowed upon her double. "I must have looked splendid, if I was like that," she whispered to Tod. "Of course you were like that," replied Macandrew, "isn't she your double, dear. Only," he added loyally, and what is more, he really believed what he said, "you were ever so much better."