I've given you a good place, Mac... you're in front of
Nur-el-Din!"

"Nur-el-Din?" repeated Mr. Mackwayte' "what is it, Fletcher? A
conjurer?"

"Good Lord' man' where have you been living?" replied Fletcher.
"Nur-el-Din is the greatest vaudeville proposition since Lottie
Collins. Conjurer! That's what she is, too, by Jove! She's the
newest thing in Oriental dancers... Spaniard or something...
wonderful clothes, what there is of 'em... and jewelry... wait
till you see her!"

"Dear me"' said Mr. Mackwayte' "I'm afraid I'm a bit behind the
times. Has she been appearing here long?"

"First appearance in London, old man' and she's made good from
the word 'Go!' She's been in Paris and all over the Continent,
and America, too, I believe, but she had to come to me to soar to
the top of the bill. I saw at once where she belonged! She's a
real artiste, temperament, style and all that sort of thing and a
damn good producer into the bargain! But the worst devil that
ever escaped out of hell never had a wickeder temper! She and I
fight all the time! Not a show, but she doesn't keep the stage
waiting! But I won! I won't have her prima donna tricks in this
theatre and so I've told her! Hullo, Georgie's he's finishing..."

The great curtain switched down suddenly, drowning a cascade of
applause, and a bundle of old clothes, twitching nerves, liquid
perspiration and grease paint hopped off the stage into the