She stood still a moment longer, looking down at the dead face, and she wondered what it all meant, and why the poor girl had sent for her, and what it was that Mr. Van Torp had done. Then she turned very slowly and went out.
'Dead, I suppose,' said Schreiermeyer as soon as he saw the
Primadonna's face. 'Her relations won't get here in time.'
Margaret nodded in silence and went on through the lobby.
'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.'