“The young lady in question is my sister, and I do not care to discuss her with strangers,” Tavernake announced.
Mr. Pritchard nodded pleasantly.
“Why, of course, that ends the matter,” he remarked. “Sorry to have troubled you, anyway.”
He strolled off back to his seat and Tavernake returned thoughtfully to the dressing-room. He found Beatrice alone and waiting for him.
“You've got rid of that fellow, then?” he inquired.
Beatrice assented.
“Yes; he didn't stay very long,” she replied.
“Who was he?” Tavernake asked, curiously.
“From a musical comedy point of view,” she said, “he was the most important person in London. He is the emperor of stage-land. He can make the fortune of any girl in London who is reasonably good-looking and who can sing and dance ever so little.”
“What did he want with you?” Tavernake demanded, suspiciously.