CHAPTER II THE WOMAN IN PURPLE Mortimer had been drinking, else he would never have assumed the entire responsibility of engaging Sybil Merivale for the leading part in his play. When sober, he had a very wholesome respect for Dukane, the producing manager who had discovered him and who was “backing him blind” to the tune of many thousands of dollars. But when he had even a little too much to drink, the man’s whole personality and viewpoint underwent a metamorphosis. He became arrogant, self-assertive, unmanageable. Eventually it was this, as even his friends and adherents were wont to prophesy, which would be the means of his downfall. Now, though Dukane himself stood at his elbow, the actor, with a swagger which he had too much sense to use on the stage or when he was entirely himself, cried: “Let us sit down here with you, Kitty, and we’ll drink the health of the new _Lucille_.” Kitty smiled indulgently as she watched him seat himself and give a whispered order to the waiter which presently resulted in the party being served with high balls. Meanwhile, as Dukane also sat down, Kitty introduced him to Sybil. Dukane was short and squarely built, with gray hair and steely eyes, a face as smooth and bland as a baby’s, and an air so gentle and unassuming that his occasional bursts of biting sarcasm came upon his victims as a shock. His gaze, clear yet inscrutable, swept Sybil Merivale in the moment taken up by his introduction to her. He was used to thus rapidly appraising the material presented him. He was inclined to approve of her appearance. She was not startlingly beautiful, but the hair was unusual and would light up well. She carried her head properly, too, and her low-voiced “How do you do, Mr. Dukane!” was quite nicely pitched. It would be worth while hearing her read the part, at any rate. For once Mortimer had not too crassly put his foot in it, as he was apt to do after four or five high balls. That the actor had taken a good deal too much upon himself in practically engaging Miss Merivale without even consulting his superior troubled Dukane not a whit. He was not a little man, and he did not have to bluster in order to assert his authority. His actors and actresses were to him so many indifferently controlled children. When they said or did absurd things, he usually let them rave. If they really became troublesome or impertinent—as Miss Templeton had been that morning—he discharged them with the utmost urbanity and firmness. He sat down and quietly told the waiter to bring him cold meat and coffee, while Mortimer ordered more high balls. “Miss Merivale can come back with us and read the part in the last act,” Dukane said, sipping his coffee. “I shan’t ask the company to go through the early part of the play again to-day. In any case”—and he smiled at the girl pleasantly—“in any case, Miss Merivale will look the part.”