The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 19, 1903, Page 5

THE SUNDAY CALL, =] If aay- ve to st to was to have n't necessary You see, I'm a to die. 1Is it of clo ather bound by con- scene.” replied Wantag girl in nade from y Ada Isaacs Menken ade her great hit in the i no more. The costumcs arrived were modes agnificent he must hat th t copled £ the famous actress, wou tisfactory. A of the first perform- ne Winifred, ch by of her mother, dgings for the th: g, a cold, sleety ra not matter to the ad in the Louse ame necar to the theater she spite the rain, a large crowd d must be waiting she tt . forming a line, but were a which every ~ ng on tiptoe over each o*h- had been no poster n that place ifred wondered vague'y be which apparently in- terested s at once. She wou i to draw closer and see for he as she knew that, 1f it were a p it must represent some scene in But it was not good form for one of the actresses to mingle with a crowd in the street In front of the theater, so she w , on the other side reet, only crossing to reach the ulla Sinclair stood near the en- 3 letters, for it was early the new poster?” she in eagerness, her eves Perhaps she had r her letters when she learned Gray had not yet arrived. In asking this question and . “But T saw a something which it rather late for a than never for such « as this. I suppose they ready before—or else they e other reason. A pity you missed it. It shows Mazeppa on the And it has your name underneath X letters six inches high— ray as Mazeppa.' d was annoyed, for though she rown fond of Selim, the clever and il “trick” horse, she hated the scene almost as much as ever, and would not to be identified with < flash to believe that nad kept back the picture moment, suspecting how »d not wishing to be ections. But she did not the satisfaction of see- vance. a faricy portrait,” she sald. w some one ‘snapshotted’ those wretched bloomers of mine isn’t much of a likeness,” re- s Sinclair, “but the effect is nly striking.” s the dress pretty?’ Winifred asked, moving away toward her dress- for she had not her own maid now, and must not waste too ughed out, a queer little " she answered; “lovely.” here was Mr. Wantage, who - ting for her. The costume k n ome yet. There had been a hitch. t a man to town who would it in his hands an hour be- i needed. Winifred was not particularly concern- ed. She did not see the crucial necessity for an extra dress. She could quite well go through the horrid scene in one she had worn previously, for the less the au- dience looked at her during those mo- ts the better she would be pleased. Just as she was ready to go out for her first scene some one knocked at the door and handed in a parcel. our costume’s come at last,” sald a voice, and Winifred took the box that was hastily handed to h But she could not wait to open it then. Tossing the parcel on to a chalr, she hur- ried away and was only just in time. Out in front was a sea of faces. The house was packed. Winifred only saw this vaguely, but as she appeared upon the stage some one moved in the proscen- fum box and let fall a rose, which drop- ped close to her feet. Involuntarily the girl looked up, and met the eyes of Lionel Macaire. CHAPTER XIV. THE SECRET OUT. Winifred did not know how she got through the scene. It was only mechan- ically that she spoke her lines. For her there was but one man in the audlence; the man who had done his best to ruin her life and drive her out of the sole pro- fession in which she was fitted tv make a living. *“He heard that I was to play in this, and so he came,” she sald to her- self. *“He hoped that the sight or him would make me break doyn. But I snan’t —1 shan't.” Ehe felt If only she could escape to the quiet of her own dressing-room and think for a moment that she might steady her nerves again; and when at last she was iberated by her first exit speech she hur- ried almost blindly from the stage. But Wantage blocked the way. “Our ker wishes to be introduced to you, he said, stopping her in comparative dusk of the wings Her eyes were still dazzied by the shimmer of footlights, and she only saw, for an nt. that there was another man with T ger. “Of course, you must have heard of Mr. Lionel Macaire,” he wen: " | the sound of that name the her mind were opened. As by a ing flash in dead of might all that ed her, all that had lain hidden rting darkness, was made poign- Witk aking she broke away, and fled to her dressing-room. She pushed the door shut and, locking it in the same instant, stood still, panting, her fore- bead damp under the stage make-up. “How's the plece going, mis: asked a meek volce, and, hearing it, Winifred started. It was the “‘dresser” employed in the theater who assisted such ladies as had no maide of their own, and had helped Winifred to get into her costume for the first act. The girl had forgotten her existence, but instantly she con- trolled herself as well as she could. “Going? Going?" she repeated vaguely, N for the woman's question scarce y conveyed an idea to her mind. “Oh— I'm ill! I don’t know what I shall do. ve a drop of brandy, miss. T'll send out for you.” suggested the dresser, accustomed to such emergencies. “You'll be all right.” *“No, no,” exclaimed Winifred. ‘I don’t want anything. And—I shar need you. You can go and help somebody else.” “Well, miss, if ou're sure, there's plenty as wants me,” answered the wom- an. “But 1 thought I'd be here ready, as I'd been tendin' so much to the others at first. There's your new costume, miss, out of the box. 1 thought you'd like to have it put out and save our time.” She pointed, and Winifred saw some- thing pale and pink and glimmering hang- ing over the back of a chalr. Eor a few seconds after the dresser had softly un- I e door and departed she stood the delicately tinted, formless mass, half cazed then she sprang for- werd and snatched it up in both hands, What she heid was a complete of silk fleshings, made to cover the entire body: and Winifred dropped it to the floor in a little choking cry of disgust, as if the thing had been a snake and writhed - the touch of her fingers. Then she covered her face with her hands and stood quiveri “Mazeppa, ple-ease!” the call-boy ed. Winifred did not hear. e minutes d, and she had not ut- moved. She was thinking—thinking, when ndering knock at the door tore away the dark vell of thought in which her spirit had wrapped itself. “Miss Gray, what's the matter? Good gr: . they're waiting for you on the age.” It was the voice of Jeffrey, the stage manager “I can’t go on with the part,” she an- ewered, brokenly. “‘Something has hap- "ve been cheated—deceived Jonsense!” he ejaculated, desperately, d pushed open the door. “Who woul ht you were one of the h terical kind? Come on, Miss Gray; you've got to come on.” 1 can’t,” she panted. “I can't.” His answer was to catch her round the aist and pull her out through the open You must be mad,” he stuttered ve to force you. You've got to Make a row afterward if you u Do you want to ruin us all—Wan- tage, and every man and,woman in the company? Come along; I tell you the stage is waiting.” sughly he pushed her Into the proper nce. Again she was blind, giddy ed. Everything swam round her for a moment, and then she knew that she had been t staggering on to the stage, every eye in the house upon her, All the actress in her nature rose and mastered shame and despair. She found herself answering her cues, saving her lines, going through the stereotvped stage business. There were two selves that fought together—one raging with a wild rebeilion against the vile plot which had trapped her; another was like a cold, unfeeling plece of stage mechanism ind up to do a certaln thing, and in- & upon doing It though the world d So the end of the act came, and there was applause from the audience and the clapping of a pair of hands in a box. Winifred was half carried off the stage by some one of the actors who saw that she was scarcely conscious of what she Gid. He held her as the applause went on, growing louder, and supported her before the curtain in response to a “call.” Whether the old-fashioned play were to be a success or not, the audience was taking it kindly. Out in front they were talking of a certain poster, and wonder- ing if it were possible that the real scene and costume would resemble it, when Mazeppa should appear bound to the horse. Behind the curtain, Mazeppa was belng carried in a dead faint to her dressing- room. Marmaduke Wantage—called to consul- tation, and the stage-manager were both in a state bordering upon desperation. “She’'s shamming—the little fiend!" Jef- frey hissed. “She’d go to any lengths to get out of it. Better not have kept so dark about the scene, and have had your row out with her beforehand! b4 ! Prude! What's to be done now?" “Tell the dresser to get things on to her somehow while she's unconscious, and take everything else away Then you'll have her on the horse and out on the stage before she knows what's hap- pened to her,” answered Wantage furious- ly, his face darkly flushed. “All the better If she's fainting,” he went on, when Jeffrey was silent, biting his lips. “The horse plays the scene, not Mazeppa.” “By Jove, I haven't the heart for it. It's toc steep!” exclalmed the other. “This is going to make a scandal, and you and I won't be the whiter for it, old man.” “You're stage manager, and it's your place to sce that everything goes right,” sald Wantage, threateningly. ‘““You don't want to make an enemy of Macaire, do you? He would be a bad one.” Jeftrey, who was another man with a past, and a dilapidated present, remem- bered his wife and children. After all the girl was a fool. The dresser was summoned, and told that Miss Gray must be got ready for the next scene. As she had fainted, and could not help herself, she must be treat- ed as If she were an Infant. And no time must be lost, as the next scene was the most important one in the play. A sovereign was slipped into the dress- er's palm, and she promised that, whether Miss Gray woke up or not, she should be ready when she was wanted, so far as clothing was concerned. Then she locked the door, and stolidly set about her task. For a time Winifred’s body was as limp in her hands as if the girl had been dead, but as the work progressed a percep- tible shuddering thrilled through the del- jcate limbs, and the bosom fell and rose with a sobbing breath. The dresser paused for an instant, look- ing critically down at the dark line of curled lashes. “She’ll be coming to her- self before I'm done with this,” was her thought. “I wonder what'll happen then”" As she wondered there was a gentle tap at the door. The woman rose, and open- ing it an Inch or two peeped out. “Here’s & note for Miss Gray,” whis- pered Mr. Wantage. “Give it to her jim- mediately If she regains her consciousress before it'’s time for her next scene. In that case there’'ll be an answer. If she has to go on as she ig, you can hand the letter back to me.” He pushed an envelope addressed in pencil through the narrow opening, and the dresser took it. Then, turning back to her charge, she saw that the young actress’ eyes were wide open. The girl was lying on a sofa, opposite a long mirror, and upon her own refice- tion there her gaze was fixed with horror. “I thought it was a dream—but it's true, after all. What have you—been do- ing to me?” she gasped. ““There, there, ducky,” cooed the old woman, “nothing at all but helping you to get ready for your big scene, because time pressed and you weren't able to do anything for yourseif. And here’ letter that's just been sent In to you by some friend outside. Better open it, now you're awake again, and maybe there’ll be a word of comfort.” “A word of comfort!” the girl echoed \ biteriy. “iheie’s no such thing for me.” But she took the letter, and with hands that were cold and trembling tore opea avelope. g darling.”” she read the‘words hast- ily scrawled in pencil, “they tell me that you object to go through the scene that is comin ou will know what T mean. If you can care for me at all you will fecl free to follow the dictates of vour own heart. Then you will know that [ thinking. Forget that you owe a forget the contract that you have The debt shall be canceled, the ¢ torn to pieces. What is a miser- able hundred pounds of salary, what are the thousands spent upon the revival ot this play—what is anything in this world when weighed against a tear or smile of vours? . “If you care for me, vou will be glad that T am thinking this and there will ba vothing on earth that vou caanot take from me or let me do for you. But it vcu still hate me as you ohce thought vou did, if I am stiil ‘horrible, and you ‘loathe me, then I know you cannot avoid remembering the money you have accepted, the contract you have signed, 1 you, being an honorable girl, will arry out the v, “Send me a line, or even a word, to wake hanpy, and the curtain mav ring down and the audience be sent away for I care, though enough money has been spent on the scenery, costumes and rent tc keep a dozen poor families in comfort for a year. And it has been all for you, to make you a ‘star, though I fear me much rhat my efforts to advance my love have not yvet been apprediated. Sti!l, the world appreciates them at something ljke their full value. One or two newspapers have got hold of the fact that my money ix Lehind this company and our friends are saying—which Is the truth—that 1 am dcing it all for you. Since this Is being aid, therefore, why not let me do a thou- cand times_more for vou—relieve you of every enxiety, both for this evening and all futvre days?” The letter was not signed, but well did Winifred know who had written It; and the keen, poisoned dagger point in every line went home, drawing heart's blood. Under the velvet glove was the hand of ron, with talons that pinched her very soul. How he reminded her of her obli- gations and made it plain that they were all to him. How he dangled temptation Lefore her eyes—escape from the net in which his machinations had first en- rieshed her and his millions for her little fingers to dip into at will. How he em- \asized his arguments by his stealthy -jnt that, since the world knew of his ad- miration and would at all events believe it reciprocated, there was the less reason to hold back. Only a word, which she could deny aft- erward, znd those two horrible men, Wantage and Jeffreys, would let her alone. There would be no more tortur- ing persuasion, no more attempts at ac- tual force. He had sald that he would ‘bring her to her knees.” Now he al- most saw her at his feet. Supposing she sent Lionel Macaire the message he wanted? Somehow she could hide hersélf afterward; and she would work hard—oh, so hard, until she could pay back every penny of his money which she had bad and spent—a hundred pounds, as he reminded her. BSurely If ever it were right to do evil that good , might come it would be right now. “The gentleman said there’d be an an- swer,” suggested the dresser. “Tell him—"" began Winifred: but her voice died away. Then her eyes light- ened, and her dropping head was suddenly lifted. *“This is my answer!". she exclaim- ed, and tore the letter fnto pleces, folding it again and tearing again until the tiny white squares fell to the floor in a flutter- ing shower, like a miniature stage snow- storm. When you are asked for my answer you can tell them what 1 did. And now please go away. I shall take off these hateful things that you have put on me and dress myself to go home. And I would rather be alone to do it CHAPTER XV, THE GREAT SCENE. Mr. Jeffrey gave Mrs. Purdy, the dress- r, a8 much time as he could convenient- all and then he returned to the door. “How do you get on?" he inquired anxiously. *“Is it going to be al Iright?” “l get on as well as you might expect, €lr,”” came the old woman's voice in re- p “"Twill be all right. Don’t you fear.” “I can's give you longer than five min- utes more, I'm afrald,” he answered. “Can you manage with that?" “Needs must, when somebody drives,” Le could hear an irreverent mumble from within. Not far away stood the horse, Selim, held by his groom. The animal used to the wings now and the lights and sounds of loud wvoices on the adjacent stage, so that he was quiet enough. The strapping-gear was right. Nothing re- mained but for Mazeppa to be fastened on the beautiful black horse’s back, when lias skin of jetty satin would make a mar- velo y effective background for the slim, nude figure thrown across it. Jeffrey listened eagerly to what was go- ing on upon the stage. They were ‘‘work- ing up” with every word now to Mazep- pa’'s thrilling entrance, which was bound to stir the audience, choking some, pleas- ing others. It occurred to him as he stood fmpatiently walting that this was a much better version than the old one and,.as he had altered it, under advice from Mr. Macaire and Wantage, he was entitled to take some credit to himself. If only all went well with this one scene prosper- ous days might come back to him. Every one knew that the millionaire was interested in several theaters in London and in the provinces, and he controlled two or three powerful papers as well. Wantage was right; Macaire was a man to be conciliated. Four minutes passed, and he could re- main passive no longer. He went back to the door of the dressing-room, which had Winifred Gray's name printed neatly on a card tacked on the raised space be- tween the panels. “Time’'s ' up he announced, with a warning rap. *“I really must have Miss Gray now.” “‘Dead or alive, eh, sir?"" came from the other side. “Yes—if there was a question of dying. 1 must have her conscious or unconscious. The stage can't be kept walting again. They're playing slow now and, by Jove, if Mazeppa and that horse aren’t ready to go on there’ll be some lively faking— which means the play’'ll be a failure, cer- tain.” “Give me just three minutes longer, can't you?’ pleaded Mrs. Purdy. “Them siik tights is the dickens and all to get on another person that’s in a dead faint —-no more life in her limbs than a doll. but we're most ready. And a real picture ghe'll be, T do assure you, sir. “Then, for goodness’ sake, don’t stick there with your mouth at the door, but go back and finish your ‘picture,’ ** growl- ed Jeffrey, who would have yvelled instead it there had not been an audience In the house with ears quick to hear any over- loud sounds behind the scenes. By this time Sellm was getting restless and stamping his iron-shod hoofs, for the moment before had come a burst of ap- plause from the audience, and his rehears- als had not afforded him any such expe- riences as that. Jeffrey went to him and occupled tha interval he had extended for Mrs. Purdy in talking to the groom and soothing the horse with a lump of sugar borrowed from one of the stage hands. But he d'd not forget when the promised three min- utes were up, and, with a glance at his watch, he was off again to Miss Gray's door. He knocked, and on this occasion, somewhat to his surprise, the door yie'd- ed under the pressure of his knuciles. Not only had !t been unlocked at last, but slightly opened as well. Taking a vantage of this, he impatiently thrust in his head. There stood Mrs. Purdy, leisurely hang- ing up the pieces of the actress’ last-worn costume which she had taken from the fainting girl, and, in her hurry, strewn over the flpor. Her present movements suggested calmness of mind and plenty of time for all that need be done. With one eager sweep of his eyes, Jef- frey took in the whole room. He had laid Winifred on the sofa, when putting her in the dresser's charge, but she was not there now. The place offered little or no chance of concealment; yet he could see the girl nowhere. His face fell into utter blankness, then darkened Into fury. “What's this mean?”’ he ejaculated. “Where's Miss Gray?” The old woman turned and gave back his look coolly, her eyebrows rounded in surprise. “Don’t get in a wax, sir,”” she respond- ed. “The poor young lady came to her- self just as we were finishing, had a drop out of that very brandy bottle as ever was" (indicating with a motion of her head a black bottle standing among scattered “make-up” on the dressing- table) “and felt quite well and sensibie. Says she: ‘T can go out by myself. Just you plek up my bits of things,' and out she goes. 1 wonder you didn’t meet her, s ‘Good graclou was Jeffrey's only an- swer. * He darted away, almost pushing down the big screen which had been put up in front of Selim, that the process of strapping Mazeppa on the horse’'s back need not be stared at by every passing stage hand. It is possible that Winifred might have gone stralght to this corner, which had always been put to the same use during her rehearsals with Selim, though, if it was strange indeed that he (Jeffrey) had missed seeing her. But there stood the groom and the horse in the semi-dusk; and there was no one besides. . “Cutting it rather fine, ain't she, sir?” asked Selim’s attendant, who knew all the cues by this time as well as did the actors. *“*Cutting it fine; T should think so!” groaned the stage manager. What a fool he had been to go out of sight of Wini- fred Gray's door for an instant! How idiotic to have trusted to the comrion sense of a drunken old woman. (This aspersion was a grave injustice to the re- spectable Mrs. Purdy; but it was a neces- sity to revile some one, and she swered as well as another for a scape for there was time even yet if that fiend of a girl could be found and dragged to her duty. “For heaven’s sake, which way did sha §0?" he adjured the dresser, who was stlll calmly putting the room to rights— brushing, shaking, folding, hanging. *“1 don't know,” retorted the old wom- an. “I'd done all you toid me to. When she went out by this door, sir, she was off my hands.” ‘With an oath, Jeffrey flung away. He had no time to bamdy words with this stupld old creature. The girl might still Le somewhere about the stage. Half-mad with impatience, he hurried and that. Every nook, every searched; not an empty dress- ing-room was forgotten. But. Winifred was not to be found and the moments were flying. Already it was close upon the cue for Mazeppa's sensational »n- trance. Wantage, who had been in t box with Macalre, was behind the scenes again now, in a passion of rage, blaming the stage manager, swearing at every one. ‘When there could be no longer waiting, Jeffrey desperately played the card, which, all this time, he had been keeping vp his sleeve. If the worst came to the worst, Jeffrey had secretly prepared an understudy, of whose readiness he had not chosen to speak even to Wantage, lest it should seem a confession of weakness—a fear that his authority as stage manager might not be enough to dominate a re- bellious actress. She was called, flung upon the horse, strapped on and just in time not to be late for the cue Selim galloped upon the stage with his living burden. Lionel Macaire sat in his box, half hid- Gen by the curtalns, yet leaning eagerly forward. He, too, knew the tue for the great entrance, and—ignorant of the lat- est developments since Wantage had left him—bhis eves had not for some moments strayed from the stage. He heard the galloping hoofs in the wings; then the noble black horse with a pearly-pink, slim body thrown across his back, sprang Into sight. Macaire's lips were apart. He uttered a faint, hissing breath, which gave a vent to strong emotion long pent up. “They’'ve made her do it!” he sald be- tween his teeth. Then he looked closer, bending out of the box, deaf to the murmurs that went round the audience below. In the rage of disappointment at realizing his mis- take, he could have shouted oaths aloud. But, he had succeeded in dofng many things in his eventful life by sheer self- control, and he had seldom lost it unless he had chosen dellberately to let himself go. He did not lose it, or let himself go now. So quickly did the scene pass by that few in the audience were certain that the figure on the horse was a mere under- study for Mazeppa. Some said it was Mies Gray herself; others vowed that it was another girl in her place. From the stage manager’'s standpoint the act was saved, whatever might have to happen later; but to Lionel Macaire the eubstitution of an understudy for the giri whom he had meant to shame and hum!iliate was only an aggravation. He’ cared nothing whether the play went on or was stopped in the midst on the first night. It was only Winifred he had thought of from the first. No answer had come to the note he had sent behind the scenes, and in this case he knew well enough that silence did not mean consent. If Winifred had intended to fling herself upon his mercy she would have replied with a written line or verbal message. And no word having been deigned he had belleved ‘Wantage's assurance that the girl would go through the scene on the horse, even it she had to be forced to it. The instant he saw that the slight, ap- parently nude figure -bound to Selim’s back was not Winifred Gray's, he rose from his seat without showing signs of haste and left the box. Behind it was a door which led through a short passage to the stage, Y \¥ “Why did not Miss Gray play that infatuation for the Mi scene?” Macaire questioned, sternly. Gro- lately been di tesquely ugly at ail times, he was ap- Clarence’'s Th pajlingly hideous when in a passion, and, mysterious reasos though his voice was merely cold, Jeffrey don, talked a good deal a saw by the purple face and the jeily-like harsh things were sald of Winifred, who quivering of the marred features that the was represented as a bold young woman, millionaire’s wrath was held in check by trading upon her charms to handle Lionel “Miss Gray can’t be found: she's disap- of impudence peared,” the stage manager stammered, of doubt by the startling posters she had the alr rocking on their allowed to be exhibited, represe money and favor. between his teeth. “Wantage came out and told me made the play famous. it wa that the girl had fainted, but was dress- had she reaily been the simple, modest the scene and would be put girl she had hypocriticaily tried to appear through it somehow, without fail. He during her brief months of popularity at had your word for it—as stage manager. the Duke of Clarence's. What do you mean, then, by saying that Then, on ti she has disappeared?” Jeffrey did not dare to lose his temper, notoriously conrected with other secan- though he had a hot one, quickly fired. dals, more or less of the same sort “It is a most mysterious affair,”” he “T don't know what to think of if. targst for matchmaking mothers), came 1 am not to blame. And. the actress’ disappearance. if Miss Gray isn't found, her understudy can get through somehow, though it will said about her no one had dreamed or be a great misfortune—on the first night starting the theory that she had beern The only thing will be t0 geceived as to the part of Mazeppa and go out before the curtain and make a jig requirements. careful announcement, working Up some ;. actresses went through life with sensation that will fetch the newspapers p.. '.ioo oien' And the old story of and rouse the public's curiosity. It may even create a certain boom.” ‘‘Boom be hanged!" ejaculated Macalire. “The girl's played you false, then?' But what a fool you were to let it happen! Do you remember it is my money you've been letting her make ducks and drakes But certainly of all nights. Mrs. Purdy. exclaimed, with Mrs. Purdy pointed to the walls of the dressing-room. ‘““There hangs her clothes, sir,” she announced. talk of takin’ are modern times, CHAPTER XVI Macaire had neither expected nor great- woulq have been espectally difficult for ly desired the play produced with his ¢ne actrecs to escape. Only Wantage, money to be a success; but, strangely Jeffrey, Mrs. Purdy, Lionel Macaire, and enough, the very event which caused his pow the detective were aware that Wini- discomfiture created an artificlal freq had been prepared for the “great vogue for the revival of ““Mazeppa.” The scenery was magnificent, If the could be a certainty, she had had no pos- \he Lrst person he met there was well-known millionaite had been Induced to “back” the production because of his Gra who had arged from the Duke of ter for extraordinary and People, even in Lon- wt it and May re’'s money, agd her “brazen front was proved without shadow g foundation, built above this rich man’s Mazeppa bourd to horse. certainiy nct have undertaken Then Lionel Macaire muttered an oath to play the mart and dress it as it had “What do you mean?” once beer dressed by tic actress who had arg top of this gossip which associated her name wich that of a man (though he was not too notorlous to be a Among all the things which had been She was an attress, the thwarted elopement, which had in some inexplicable way cost the girl her position In Mr. Anderson’s company, was revived. It had been freely said before that the man in the case had been Lilonel Macaire himself, and though he posed as a bachelor there had been many certain to be found,” faltered Tumors that he had a wife from whom Jeffrey, drooping under the millionaire’s he was separated, “She can't possibly have left the come with me, Mr. ing the “boom” which had saved “Ma- Macaire, to her dressing-room door, where zeppa” for the benefit of its needy man- Mr. Wantage is catechising the woman ager and its company of actors; Brigh- who had charge of her after she fai you'll understand that it must be so. “Very well,” As if the facts were tireless in agitat- d, ton was favored with another sensation on the very morning after the girl's sald the other. and to- gisappearance. gether they walked across the stage, be- hind the setting which was going up for the next act. Mr. Wantage, afrald to go out and face his patron after what had happened, was standing in the open doorway of Winifred Gray's dressing-room, talking excitedly 0 picture in every case. At sight of Macaire advanc- ing upon them he flushed darkly, then ordered and put up to replace the dam- The startling posters which had been put up only on the afternoon of the first performance were all either down from their hoardings or destroyed beyond rec- ognition. the name of Winifred Gray be- ing stripped away from underneath the Other posters of the same design were aged ones after a day or two's delay (for “This is a mystery, Mr. Macaire!” he Lionel Macaire still had it in his power h shaking volce. ‘“Miss to take this mean revenge):; but on the Gray has disappeared. A' most obstinate following morning they were seen to have she objected to 80 gone the way of their predecessors, even the scene In the only suitabie though a reward had been advertised for ¢, and Jeffrey knew it. But we. “You haven't told me yet why y so sure she's in the theater,” the detection of the gulity person. are Mcanwhile Lionel Macaire rematned in sald Brighton, having sent for a detective from a certain well-known private not to be on the watch, save 8 ntally, for the destroyer of the “There was some posters, but to take up the scent from ‘em away, when she was the start and track down Winifred Gray. so obstinate, but that was before she There they hangs. And as these ter, Wantage, as business manager, act- and Miss Gray ain't jng for him. But even if the Interest the Lady Godiva the poetry’s about, it which he took in finding the girl leaked stands to reason she can't have got far.” out, it could not damage his reputation. sent for the swears that he hasn’t left his post to- to the football of scandal, which at the night, and that Miss Gray didn’t go by, added Jeffrey. He did not move openly in the mat- door keeper, Who He it was who had given the first kick time of the Duke of Clarence’s Theater “Yet the theater's been jncident, had linked thefr two names to- searched from below the stage up to the gether. Now he was to be pitied, both as The girl's nowhere. She's vanished the financlal backer of a company treacherously deserted by its principal ‘Winifred Gray had disappeared as mys- pemper, and as a lover decelved by her terlously as the bride In the ballad of ypon whom he had heaped benefits. “The Mistletoe Bough.” No trace of her could be found at the theater or else- mathod, which it was his duty to dis- where, either on the night when mySterY cqover, the girl had contrived to get away allowed her up or during the days not only frcm the theater, but from The detective was certain that by some Brighton. Everybody eise belleved this,, of course; but then only two or three persons knew the real reason why It scene’”” while fainting, and that, so far as vanished star) was gpie opportunity or even time for chang- Most of the best people had been yng~ [n spite of this fact, however, the engaged when Mr. Wantage had first be- moy groPgieisies agency persisted fn his gun his quest for actors, and he had been “(neory The girl must have hidden here given to understand were secured the rest of the cast mat- anq them recolved assistance from out. tered little to the backer; therefors he g’ Once away, she would naturally had heen easily suited for most of the pavc taken steps to leave Brighton as But scenery alone and the dispro- goop as possible. Her brother, who had portionately large amount of pictorial ad- yugt returned to London, was shadowed vertising which had been done could 0t byt jn vain. It was discovered that Mrs. have saved “Mazeppa” from fallure. The it [ VAIn 0 T o i Wel its continuance on the boards peci gtreet, and that she had within the would have depended Lpon the sum Of 155 few days suffered a relapse, but noth- money Mr. Macalre was willing to throw et (0% FAYE RN R 4 K hout. her But the sudden dln!m;:rance ;f daughter. the star gave a filllp which perhaps noth- e ing else could have given. Second and Last Imstallment Next A story had been circulated that the that if Miss Gray ge)r somewhere in the theater for hours Sunday. THIN WOMEN MADE FAT BY WEARING OUR CELEBRATED CORSETS. An X-Ray Photograph of one of our Patrons wearing our Corset. JOE ROSENBERG o, 816 Market St. and 11 O’Farrell St. Phelan Building. 3 FAT WOMEN MADE THIN NEMO Self reducing corsets for stout figures. $2.50, $3.50, $5.00 LA VIDA For medium stout and slender figures. 33.50 to $12.00 LA GRECQUE Models for every fig- ure from the very stout woman to the s.im college girl $L25 to $750 Corsets Fitted Free. Expert fitters In attend- ance. We can fit any form young orold— stout or thin. The wearers of our corsets are always stylish. We can fit th: hard to fit. Mail Orders Attended to. e ) o SR e S SSRX