She turned away with a brave attempt at a smile, but it was only an
attempt. Laverick walked on to his club. There was no one in the
dining-room whom he knew, and the card-room was empty. He played
one game of billiards, but he played badly. He was upset. His
nerves were wrong he told himself, and little wonder. There seemed
to be no chance of a rubber at bridge, so he sallied out again and
walked aimlessly towards Covent Garden. Outside the Opera House he
hesitated and finally entered, yielding to an impulse the nature of
which he scarcely recognized. While he was inquiring about a stall,
a small printed notice was thrust into his hand. He read it with
a slight start.

We regret to announce that owing to indisposition Mademoiselle
Idiale will not be able to appear this evening. The part of Delilah
will be taken by Mademoiselle Blanche Temoigne, late of the Royal
Opera House, St. Petersburg.

Ten minutes later, Laverick rang the bell of her flat in Dover Street.
A strange man-servant answered him.

"I came to inquire after Mademoiselle Idiale," Laverick said.

The man held out a tray on which was already a small heap of cards.
Laverick, however, retained his.

"I should be glad if you would take mine in to her," he said. "I
think it is just likely that she may see me for a moment."

The servant's attitude was one of civil but unconcealed hostility.