penetrated; he accepted and repaid the other's advances with uniform
courtesy but Forsythe could not flatter himself the acquaintance had
progressed greatly since their first meeting.

A bell sounded; John Steele, excusing himself, entered the auditorium
and was shown to his seat. It proved excellently located, and, looking
around, he found himself afforded a comprehensive view of a spectacle
brilliant and dazzling. Boxes shone with brave hues; gems gleamed
over-plentifully; here and there, accentuating the picture, the gorgeous
colors of some eastern prince stood out like the brighter bits in a
kaleidoscope. Steele's glance swept over royalty, rank and condition. It
took in persons who were more than persons--personages; it passed over
the impassive face of a dark ameer who looked as if he might have
stepped from one of the pages of _The Arabian Nights_, and lingered on a
box a little farther to one side. Here were seated Sir Charles and his
wife and party; and among them he could discern the features of Jocelyn
Wray--not plainly, she was so far away! Only her golden hair appeared
distinct amid many tints.

The curtain went up at last; the music began; melodies that seemed born
in the springtime succeeded one another. Perennial in freshness, theme
followed theme; what joy, what gladness; what merriment, what madness!
John Steele, in the main, kept his attention directed toward the stage;
once or twice he glanced quickly aside and upward; now in the dimness,
however, the people in the boxes conveyed only a vague shadowy
impression. How long was the act; how short? It came to a sudden end;
after applause and bravos, men again got up and walked out; he, too,
left his seat and strolled toward the back.

"Mr. Steele! One moment!" He found himself once more addressed by the