“Yes, sir. Very ill,” said the man, quickly.
Butler was gnawing his moustache.
“Rubbish!” he said, sharply. “Come away, you. She’s got a visitor in there. Can’t you see the lay of the land?”
The little husband turned cold, then hot.
“Certainly,” snapped the aggrieved Mr. Butler. “What else?”
Without another word, Harvey brushed past the stage hand and began rattling the door violently.
“Nellie!” he shouted, his lips close to the paint.
In a second the door flew open and the astonished actress stood there staring at him as if he were a ghost. He pushed the door wide open and strode into the dressing-room, Nellie falling back before him. The room was empty save for the dismayed Rebecca.
“There!” he exclaimed, turning to address Butler in the doorway, but Butler was not there. The stage hand had got in his way.