'Surpassing! Magnificent! What a woman!' he roared in tremendous tones
as he strode away through the dim corridor towards the stage and his
own dressing-room on the other side.

Meanwhile Schreiermeyer, who was quite as thirsty as the tenor, drank
what the latter had left in the only glass there was, and set the full
bottle beside the latter on the deal table.

'There is your beer,' he said, calling attention to what he had done.

Cordova nodded carelessly and sat down on one of the crazy chairs
before the toilet-table. Her maid at once came forward and took off
her wig, and her own beautiful brown hair appeared, pressed and matted
close to her head in a rather disorderly coil.

'You must be tired,' said the manager, with more consideration than
he often showed to any one whose next engagement was already signed.
'I'll find out how many were killed in the explosion and then I'll
get hold of the reporters. You'll have two columns and a picture
to-morrow.'

Schreiermeyer rarely took the trouble to say good-morning or
good-night, and Cordova heard the door shut after him as he went out.

'Lock it,' she said to her maid. 'I'm sure that madman is about the
theatre again.'

The maid obeyed with alacrity. She was very tall and dark, and
when she had entered Cordova's service two years ago she had been