Chester felt nettled and turned to the lady in the centre, who sat looking over the back of her chair.
“Perhaps Miss Marion Clareborough will tell me how her brother is progressing?”
“Dennis,” said one of the ladies, before any reply could be made, “is this a friend of yours? If so, introduce us.”
“Friend of mine? Hang it, no! Gentleman has got into the wrong box. Never saw him before in my life. What number did you want, sir?”
“This,” said Chester, sternly, as he looked the young man fiercely in the eyes. “Perhaps Miss Clareborough will speak. Believe me, I took great interest in your brother’s case. Can I see him again?”
The lady he addressed turned to one of her companions and whispered a few words, whereupon Mrs James said coldly—
“Will you help this gentleman to find the box he is in search of, Dennis? The place is so dark now the curtain is down, and he does not see the mistake he has made.”
“No, that’s it,” said the young man. “Ah, here you are, then, at last,” he cried, as the entrance was darkened by another figure. “Come in. This gentleman wants to find some friends of his, and he has come to this box by mistake.”
“Indeed!” and Chester at that one word felt the blood surge up to his temples, and a fierce sensation of passion began to make his nerves tingle.
“Well,” continued the speaker, “it’s very easy, dear boy. Places are so confoundedly dark. Couldn’t get here sooner, girls; man detained me at the club—I beg pardon, sir; the box-keeper could no doubt help you.”