He nodded and drew me a little on one side. His manner was distinctly uneasy, and his clothes were shabbier even than they had seemed at a distance, but his voice was the voice of a person of education, pleasant, notwithstanding a queer, rather musical accent which at the moment was unfamiliar to me. "Shall I be able to lock my things up?" he asked, in an undertone. "No offence," he went on hastily, "only I happen to be carrying something rather valuable about with me." I handed him the key of the dressing room, for which he thanked me. "How long will that screeching woman be?" he asked impatiently. "You can go on directly she's finished murdering this one," I promised him. "I don't think they'll stand any more." He nodded, and I turned back towards where the other aspirant was standing in the shadow of the wings. "Now what can I do for you, sir?" I asked. "I don't think you need to change, do you?" There was no immediate reply. Suddenly I felt a little shiver, and I had hard work to keep back the exclamation from my lips. I knew now that Rose had been right. It was a very wonderful disguise, but our master had at last appeared. He drew a little nearer to me. Even then, although I knew that it was Richard Thomson, I could see nothing but the Jew shopkeeper. "I shall pretend to make some slight change behind that screen," he said in a low tone. "Come back here when you've taken him on the stage. I may want you." He disappeared behind a screen a few feet away, and I stood there like a dazed man. From the stage I could still hear the lusty contralto of the young lady candidate. I heard her finish her song amidst moderate applause, chiefly contributed by a little group of her supporters. There was a brief pause. The young lady obliged with an encore. Then the door of the men's dressing room opened, was closed and locked. The young man, looking a little haggard but remarkably handsome, came towards me, clenching the key in his hand. "I was a fool to take this on," he confided nervously. "You are sure my things will be all right in there?" I pointed to the key in his hand. "You have every assurance of it," I told him. He fidgeted about, listening with obvious suffering to the girl's raucous voice. "Ever been in the profession?" I enquired. "Never," was the hasty reply. "What's your line to-night?" "Tenor. Your pianist will be able to do what I want. I've heard her." "If you win the prize, do you want a job?" I asked, more for the sake of making conversation than from any real curiosity. He shook his head. "I've other work on." "Down at the docks?" "That's of no consequence, is it?" was the somewhat curt reply.--"There, she's finished, thank heavens! Let me get this over."