All at once the lights went out and the first act was on. The entrance of Emma Fornez was eagerly awaited as a new sensation to an audience which yearly must be served with the novel and startling. It had been rumored that her impersonation was even a bit shocking, and the house, stirred by the expectation, waited hopefully. At the end of the act opinions were divided: the galleries applauded frantically, moved by the sure magnetism of a great artist, but the boxes and most of the orchestra waited undecided, each afraid to be the leader. "But I don’t see anything shocking at all," said the voice of a young woman in the next box, a note of complaint in her voice. "Wait—it’s in the second act," answered the sarcastic note of a man. "Ah, the love scene," said the woman mollified. The two young men rose, giving their places to arriving visitors, and went into the corridors on their rounds. Beecher was thoughtful. He had at last assured himself that he had not been mistaken—Miss Charters was present. He had detected her with her glasses on his box, but he had not succeeded in seeing who was her companion. "I’d give a good deal to know how well Mrs. Cheever knows Mapleson," said Gunther eagerly. "I say, what do you mean by poking me?" asked Beecher suddenly. "Didn’t you get on? Mapleson is the head of Sontag & Company; Sontag & Company sold the ring to Slade. Now if Mapleson and Mrs. Cheever are intimate it’s possible—just a chance—Mrs. Cheever may have known the facts. See?" Beecher shrugged his shoulders. "It’s a long shot." "But a chance. I’ll pick up some one here in five minutes who can tell me." Beecher entered the Bloodgood box and, making his way to the front, gave his hand to Mrs. Bloodgood. Four or five men, impelled by curiosity, were before him, mentally registering their reports to add to the fund of gossip. Mrs. Bloodgood, glad to avail herself of the opportunity, had turned her back on the audience and was holding her head against these social scouts, who discussed Slade, which was a manner of discussing Majendie. She welcomed Beecher’s arrival as that of an ally and made him the pretext of withdrawing from the general conversation. The moment he looked at her, he had the tact to perceive that any display of sympathy would be an offense. There was no trace left of the weak and desperate woman. Instead, he was aware of an immense change in her, a transformation that was moral, and looking into her eyes he could not realize that he had ever seen them weep. "They’ll force out Slade," said a voice. "Where are you tonight?" she asked quietly. "In Mrs. Craig Fontaine’s box," he said. "Mrs. Kildair is there, isn’t she?" "Yes." He hesitated, but did not deliver her message. The woman before him asked compassion from no one. In the commotion at his side he caught a phrase: "Wonder if Slade will kill himself too?"