"All for nothing!" she said, between paroxysms of choking. "Never mind—I don't regret it. Do you hear that? But I don't think you were worth it."

Scarcely aware of what he did, and conscious only of cataclysmic panic, Nigel banged the front door, and heard himself shout:

"Hullo, Felix, are you at home?"

Dead silence and then a sound of footsteps, and the studio door was thrown open.

"Oh—it's you, Nigel," said Felix Gardener.

Nigel didn't look at him, but beyond, into the studio, where he saw Stephanie Vaughan, very attractive, in an armchair by the window. She held a handkerchief to her lips.

"Why, it's Nigel Bathgate," she cried, with exactly the same inflexion as the one she used when she said: "Hullo, all you people," in her first entrance in the play.

"You've—you've met before," said Gardener.

Nigel managed to say something, even to take the hand she held out cordially towards him.

"I only came in for a second," he told Gardener.

"I'm sure you didn't," said Miss Vaughan gaily. "You've come to have a boy friend chat—the sort that consists of drinks, cigarettes, long silences and a few risqué stories. I'm off, anyway, so you needn't bother about me."

She rose to her feet in one lithe movement. She looked Nigel full in the face, and gave him the three-cornered smile.

"Make Felix bring you to see me," she commanded. "I rather like you, Nigel Bathgate. Felix—you hear? You're to bring him to see me."

"Is this your purse?" asked Gardener. Nigel saw him put it on a table near her, and knew he didn't want to touch her hand. He opened the door to her and she floated out, still talking. Gardener followed her, shut the door, and Nigel heard her voice, very low, outside. In another second the outer door slammed, and Gardener came back into the room.

"It was decent of you to come, Nigel," he said. "I'm all in."

He looked it. He sat down in front of the fire and held his hands to it. Nigel saw he was shaking:

"I think you ought to see a doctor, Felix," he ventured.

"No, no. It's only the after-effects of shock, I imagine. I'll be all right. Think I'll turn in presently and try for a little sleep. I haven't been able to sleep much."

"Jolly sound idea. Why don't you carry it out now? I'll give you some aspirin and a stiff whisky, and leave you in peace."

"Oh, in a minute. Any news?"