Van Bibber smiled and shrugged his shoulders in some embarrassment at
this peremptory challenge. But there was nothing in the young man's tone
or manner that could give offence. He seemed much in earnest, and spoke
as though they must understand that he had some right to question.

"Why? Because of her dancing. She is a very remarkable dancer. All of
those actors with us that night said so. You must know that yourself
better than any one else, since you can dance with her. She could make
quite a fortune as a dancer, and we have persuaded several managers to
promise to give her a trial. And if she needs money to pay for lessons,
or to buy the proper dresses and slippers and things, we are willing to
give it to her, or to lend it to her, if she would like that better."

"Why?" repeated the young man, immovably. His manner was not
encouraging.

"Why--what?" interrupted Travers, with growing impatience.

"Why are you willing to give her money? You don't know her."

Van Bibber looked at Travers, and Travers smiled in some annoyance. The
electric bell rang violently from different floors, but the young man
did not heed it. He had halted the elevator between two landings, and he
now seated himself on the velvet cushions and crossed one leg over the
other, as though for a protracted debate. Travers gazed about him in
humorous apprehension, as though alarmed at the position in which he
found himself, hung as it were between the earth and sky.

"I swear I am an unarmed man," he said, in a whisper.