of Mr. Montague, his predecessor in the ownership of the Windsor
Theater.

Mr. Montague was effusively friendly, and, for some mysterious reason,
congratulatory.

"You've done it, have you? You pulled it off, did you? And in the first
month--by George! And I took you for the plain, ordinary mug of
commerce! My boy, you're as deep as they make 'em. Who'd have thought
it, to look at you? It was the greatest idea any one ever had and
staring me in the face all the time and I never saw it! But I don't
grudge it to you--you deserve it my boy! You're a nut!"

"I really don't know what you mean."

"Quite right, my boy!" chuckled Mr. Montague. "You're quite right to
keep it up, even among friends. It don't do to risk anything, and the
least said soonest mended."

He went on his way, leaving Roland completely mystified.

Voices from his sitting-room, among which he recognized the high note
of Miss Verepoint, reminded him of the ordeal before him. He entered
with what he hoped was a careless ease of manner, but his heart was
beating fast. Since the opening of rehearsals he had acquired a
wholesome respect for Miss Verepoint's tongue. She was sitting in his
favorite chair. There were also present Bromham Rhodes and R. P. de
Parys, who had made themselves completely at home with a couple of his
cigars and whisky from the oldest bin.