“Let me get by,” he said. “What’s the matter?” “You can’t go in,” said several voices! “Ivy Grant has been awfully burnt, they say Mrs. Denmead managed to get the fire out.” “Where is my wife?” said Ralph distractedly. “She is in the green room helping. It’s no good my dear boy. I tell you no one can go in.” Ralph, sick with anxiety for Evereld, and only longing to get her out of the room, seemed on the point of taking the speaker by the collar and thrusting him aside, when to his relief the door opened and Macneillie came out. They all made way for him and heard him giving orders for a messenger to be sent at once for the ambulance, then before a single question could be put to him by Ralph, the Assistant stage manager came up to discuss the arrangements that were to be made for the last act. Fortunately Ivy’s understudy happened to be present so that no very great delay was to be feared, and when this matter had been disposed of, Helen Orme who had good naturedly hurried away to dress in order that she might be free to offer her help, came hastening back and begged leave to go in and do what she could for Ivy. “Send Evereld to me,” was Ralph’s parting injunction, and Helen Orme, feeling very sorry for him, went in and finding that the preliminary dressing of Ivy’s burns was over, admitted him on her own authority. It was a kindly meant act but under the circumstances a little risky, for at the first sight of him Evereld’s composure began to give way. The doctor noticed it at once. “Now, Mrs. Denmead,” he said cheerfully. “Let this lady take your place for a minute, and you go and sit down. I shall be ready to dress that hand of yours directly.” “Oh!” moaned Ivy who had spoken very little since they had carried her down. “Is Evereld hurt?” “Just a little,” said the doctor. “But she won’t grudge that, for she has saved your life.” “Do you think you could just manage to get me home,” whispered Evereld, suddenly realising that her strength would hold out no longer and that she could only agitate and harm Ivy by staying. “Yes, darling,” said Ralph, “of course I can.” But the cheery doctor had overheard and was beside them in a minute. “Where are you staying?” he said crossing the room to them. “In Kingsmead Terrace? I will drive you there at once in my carriage. Wait for a minute and I will bring it round to the stage door. My little patient here will do well enough now, and before long they will carry her to the hospital in the ambulance. Just one word with you, Mr. Denmead.” Ralph followed him out of the room.