Maggie had been using her free moments to try on the new dresses the seamstresses had been making for her, now that most of her costumes were done. At the sight of Philip, reflected in the glass of her mirror, she whirled and demanded, “What is it?”

“The Elisabeth Lee ran into some trouble, Maggie. Part of the crew was killed.”

Maggie felt the blood drain from her face and the strength flow from her legs. She sat down heavily on the bench in front of her mirror. “Reeve?” she asked in a whisper.

Philip shrugged miserably and held out the piece of paper. Maggie snatched it from him and read the telegraph message thereupon, CALAMITY THREE DAYS OUT. TWELVE MEN DEAD, REST SAFE IN AUCKLAND. JACOB HUGHES, FIRST MATE, THE ELISABETH LEE

Staring into space, her throat thick, Maggie managed to ask, “Who gave you this?”

“It was sent to Mr. McKenna’s offices, Maggie. A clerk brought it over.”

The telegram was crumpled in Maggie’s hands; carefully, she smoothed it out on her knee. “You think Reeve is dead, don’t you?” she accused Philip in wooden tones.

Philip sighed and came to stand close by, his hand resting gently on Maggie’s shoulder. “Jacob Hughes is the first mate, not the captain. If Reeve were alive, he’d have sent the wire himself, wouldn’t he?”

Maggie wanted to attack Philip like an animal, kicking, biting, scratching. How dare he suggest that Reeve was dead! She sat perfectly still instead, drawing in one deep and shaky breath after another. “I’m going to Auckland.”

Philip sat down on the end of the chaise longue and then reached out to catch one of Maggie’s hands in his own. “You can’t, Maggie, and you know it. You’ve got the play to think about, and besides, what good could you do in Auckland? The Elisabeth Lee will sail back to Sydney as soon as she’s manned and fitted for the voyage; it’s her home port.”

“To hell with the damned play!” Maggie cried out, plunging to her feet and pacing the dressing room, tears welling in her eyes. “To hell with everything and everybody except Reeve McKenna!”

Philip gave another sigh, this one ragged and long. “Maggie, I know how you feel, but you’ve got to stay here. You’ve got to wait for news!”

“I can’t bear to wait!”

“You’ll have to,” Philip said firmly, rising to take her quaking shoulders into his hands in an attempt to steady her. “Maggie,” he began again, his voice reasonable and quiet, “suppose you did set sail for New Zealand this very day. Do you know what would probably happen?”

Maggie was trembling. She shook her head.

“Your ship and the Elisabeth Lee would pass each other. You’d be no closer to learning the truth than you are right now.”