of what she had to expect--an indication of the new color her
reputation had assumed.

Nobel Bergman's success in the show business had long been a
mystery among those who knew him; for, to offset an undeniable
theatrical talent, he possessed all the appetites, the frailties,
and the passions of a rake. It was perhaps most of all his keen
personal appreciation of beauty that had made his companies the
sensation of New York. At any rate, he had done amazingly well for
himself, and entertainments of a certain character had become
known as "Bergman Shows," just as show-girls of a dashing type
were known as "Bergman Girls," even when employed by rival
managers. In his office, or during the organization and production
of his spectacles, he was a cold, shrewd man of business; once the
venture had been launched, he became an amorous hanger-on, a
jackal prowling in search of a kill. His commercial caution
steered him wide of the moral women in his employ, but the other
kind, and especially the innocent or the inexperienced, had cause
to know and to fear him. In appearance he was slender and foppish;
he affected a pronounced waist-line in his coats, his eyes were
large and dark and brilliant, his mouth was sensual. He never
raised his voice, he never appeared to see plain women; such girls
as accepted his attentions were sure of advancement, but paid for
it in other ways.

On Monday evening Mr. Slosson, the press-agent, thrust his head
through the dressing-room door and inquired: "May I come in?"

"You are in."