"All right. I want to make a will, don't you know. I say, Hammer, brace up! 'Pon my word, I'm having a splendid time, old chap; I've always wanted to have a look in on the stage and see how things were run."
"I'm a notary public, sir, if so be as you wants to——" suggested Solomon.
"Very well. Hammer, you don't mind leaving us alone for a bit?"
The American, choking, rose and left the room, returning to his own. Miss Helmuth had vanished, and he stood over his cot, looking out the window, and fighting back his emotion with grim intensity. It seemed untold ages before his door opened and he turned to face the master of the house.
"'E's all through, Mr. 'Ammer, and wants you. Werry weak 'e is, sir."
Hammer strode back hurriedly and dropped beside Harcourt.
"Hammer, old chap," and Harcourt's voice was faint. "I'm not afraid to meet the Stage Manager; but, Christian or not, I do wish that you'd get Jenson for me, will you? Not that I object particularly, don't you know, but I do object to being hurried in such a bally indecent way."
"I'll get him," muttered Harcourt, meeting the clear blue eyes.
"I'll get him, Harcourt, and I'll get his master with him, by Godfrey!"
"Werry good, sir!" echoed the voice of Solomon behind.