For the first time in his life he realised its importance. And his father's words continually echoed in his ears.
At eight o'clock he went to the Ingenue Theatre and waited at the stage door for Ruby Strode to arrive. She generally put in an appearance between eight and eight-fifteen. Every minute cabs and motor-cars drew up and members of the company got out and passed through the narrow entrance to the back of the theatre. Some of the girls he recognised, but he kept out of the way, as he did not wish to be seen.
When the hands of the clock in the doorkeeper's office pointed to a quarter-past eight, he began to grow a little anxious. Ruby was late. As a rule she was careful about time where her work was concerned.
He waited five minutes more, then stepping inside the passage he knocked at the sliding glass-panel of the doorkeeper's office and asked if Miss Strode had arrived.
"I'm sure I couldn't say," the man in charge replied. "The doorkeeper's been called away for a moment, but he'll be back directly. All the chorus and extra people are supposed to be booked in by eight-fifteen."
As Rupert turned away a girl hurrying along the passage nearly ran into him. As she apologised he recognised Iris Colyer, a friend of Ruby's.
"Do you know if Miss Strode has arrived yet? I wish you'd find her for me," he said. "I've just come up to town from the country, and I don't suppose I shall have more than twenty-four hours here. I want her to meet me after the performance to-night."
He noticed a look of surprise on Miss Colyer's face, and she hesitated a moment before replying. "But don't you know she has gone away? She's been absent about a week now."
"Gone away," Rupert echoed blankly.
"Yes; didn't you know? She was a bit run down. Got a chill or something—at least, she said so! Anyway, she wanted a holiday, poor dear! She's been at it hard for the past twelve months."