There was a moment's embarrassed silence. Henriette was obviously distraught. She watched the rather fascinating figure upon the stage with strained eyes.
"It isn't," she went on, turning abruptly to her companion, "that I mind if Leopold chooses to amuse himself. He has probably lent the girl the diamond for her first appearance. I see that it is her debut to-night. It is not that. But he is so rash, so daring. That stone is known throughout the world—its history, its description have been published everywhere. Why, if there is anyone in the house who knows anything of the history of gems, they will recognise it. It will be traced—so easily traced to Leopold. Oh, what folly! I must go and see her. I must go at once!"
She rose to her feet. They drew a little into the background of the box.
"I am afraid it will be rather difficult," Aaron Rodd warned her.
"It must be arranged," she insisted. "We will go together and find some one at the box office who will take a message round."
They spent a more or less uncomfortable ten minutes at the box office, where they were assured that, owing to the smallness of the theatre, visits to the artistes were not permitted. The manager at last appeared and began an explanation on similar lines. Henriette interrupted him.
"Monsieur," she begged, "it is a great exception. There is something which Mademoiselle should know, something which it is very important for her to know, and I am the only person who can tell her. You will make an exception, please, this once?"
The manager was quite human and a person of discrimination. He made no further difficulty.
"If you will both please follow me," he invited. "Mademoiselle Larilly has just gone off."
He led them by a tortuous way to the back of the stage and knocked at the door of a room.