'The rehearsal is at eleven,' the manager called out after her, in his
wooden voice.

She nodded again, but did not look back. Griggs had waited in order
to take her back to her dressing-room, and the two crossed the stage
together. It was almost quite dark now, and the carpenters were gone
away.

'Thank you,' Margaret said. 'If you don't care to go all the way back
you can get out by the stage door.'

'Yes. I know the way in this theatre. Before I say good-night, do you
mind telling me what the doctor said?'

'He said she died of failure of the heart, from shock. Those were his
words. Why do you ask?'

'Mere curiosity. I helped to carry her--that is, I carried her myself
to the manager's room, and she begged me to call you, so I came to
your door.'

'It was kind of you. Perhaps it made a difference to her, poor girl.
Good-night.'

'Good-night. When do you sail?'

'On Saturday. I sing "Juliet" on Friday night and sail the next
morning.'