"But you couldn't identify it," Wilfrid said, speaking as coolly as he could. "You don't mean to tell me that it was the same hand? You couldn't swear to it?"
"Perhaps not," Beatrice admitted. "But to all practical purposes it was the same hand, though the arm was hidden in a black sleeve and the whitest of cuffs. But you can imagine how the incident disturbed me. I pressed forward as eagerly as I could, but at that moment somebody had finished singing on the stage and there was a rush of men into the refreshment-room, so that I was prevented from pursuing my investigations. But I am frightened, Wilfrid. The thing seems to have taken my courage out of me. I wish you would try to find out if there is a man here like the one I have described."
Wilfrid muttered something in the way of a promise, though he knew that he had not very far to go to find the man that Beatrice spoke of. Then there was a tramping of feet overhead, the orchestra was playing the audience out of the theatre, and already an army of sweepers and cleaners had taken possession of it. There was a swift scattering of guests, and then, as if by magic, the stage was transformed into a huge supper-room and the guests were being ushered in by the stewards.
"Let me take you in," Wilfrid pleaded. "That is, of course, if you have no other partner."
Beatrice made no demur; indeed, she was thankful to have Wilfrid by her side. Already most of the guests had assembled on the stage. There were scores of little tables, flower-decked and shaded with pink lamps, which formed an exceedingly pretty picture. Towards one side, under a box, Wilfrid could see a table still unoccupied, and to this he piloted his companion.
"This is a slice of luck," he said. "Let us hope we can have this to ourselves so that we may have a long, cosy chat that will disperse all your fears. A glass of champagne will make a different girl of you."
A waiter bustled up to the table and Wilfrid gave his orders. A moment later and two guests came across the stage towards the table. One was a tall woman whom Wilfrid recognized at a glance as a well-known actress, the other was no less a person than the little yellow man in evening dress who had so startled Russell earlier in the evening. All the colour left Beatrice's face. She grasped her companion's arm helplessly.
"They are coming here," she whispered. "Oh, I am sure they are coming here. What shall we do?"
"Courage," Wilfrid said coolly. "We can't prevent them from sitting at the same table, seeing that they are the guests of the management as well as ourselves. So that is the man you were speaking about? He looks harmless enough. Don't be silly, Beatrice. Try to behave as if nothing had happened."
The girl recovered herself with a powerful effort. She even smiled as the handsome actress made a half-apology for intruding at the table.