Baroni was nearly demented. If she should fail to regain her nerve the whole concert would he a disastrous fiasco. Possible headlines from the morrow's newspapers danced before his eyes: "NERVOUS COLLAPSE OF MISS DIANA QUENTIN," "SIGNOR BARONI'S NEW PRIMA DONNA FAILS TO MATERIALISE." "_Diavolo_!" he exclaimed distractedly. "But what shall we do? What shall we do?" "What is the matter?" At the sound of the cool, level tones the little agitated group of three in the artistes' room broke asunder, and Baroni hurried towards the newcomer. "Mr. Errington, we are in despair--" And with a gesture towards Diana he briefly explained the predicament. Max nodded, his keen eyes considering the shrinking figure leaning against the wall. "Don't worry, Baroni," he said quietly. "I'll pull her round." Then, as a burst of applause crashed out from the hall, he whispered hastily: "Get Kirolski to give an encore. It will allow her a little more time." Baroni nodded, and a minute or two later the audience was cheering the violinist's reappearance, whilst Errington strode across the room to Diana's side. "How d'you do?" he said, holding out his hand exactly as though nothing in the world were the matter. "I thought you'd allow me to come round and wish you luck, so here I am." He spoke in such perfectly normal, everyday tones that unconsciously Diana's rigid muscles relaxed, and she extended her hand in response. "I'm feeling sick with fright," she replied, giving him a wavering smile. Max laughed easily. "Of course. Otherwise you wouldn't be the artiste that you are. But it will all go the moment you're on the platform." She looked up at him with a faint hope in her eyes. "Do you really think so?" she whispered. "I'm sure. It always does," he lied cheerfully. "I'll tell you who is far more nervous than you are, and that's the Rector. Miss Stair and Jerry were almost forcibly holding him down in his seat when I left them. He's disposed to bolt out of the hall and await results at the hotel." Diana laughed outright. "How like him! Poor Pobs!" "You'd better give him a special smile when you get on the platform to reassure him," continued Max, his blue eyes smiling down at her. The violin solo had drawn to a close--Kirolski had already returned a third time to bow his acknowledgments--and Errington was relieved to see that the look of strain had gone out of her face, although she still appeared rather pale and shaken.