"Mr. Copplestone, Mr. Montmorency," said Gilling. "Mr. Montmorency, Mr.
Copplestone."
"Servant, sir," said Mr. Montmorency. "Pleased to meet any friend of my friend! And what will you take, dear boys, and how are things with you, Gilling, old man—now who on earth would have thought of seeing you here?"
Copplestone held his peace while Gilling and Mr. Montmorency held interesting converse. He was sure that his companion would turn this unexpected meeting to account, and he therefore felt no surprise when Gilling, after giving him a private nudge, plumped the manager with a direct question.
"Did you see Addie Chatfield when she was here about a year ago?" he asked. "You remember—she was here in Mrs. Swayne's Necklace—here a fortnight."
"I remember very well, dear boy," responded Mr. Montmorency, with a judicial sip at the contents of his tumbler. "I saw the lady several times. More by token, I accidentally witnessed a curious little scene between Miss Addie and a gentleman whom Nature appeared to have specially manufactured for the part of heavy parent—you know the type. One morning when that company was here, I happened to be standing in the vestibule, talking to the box-office man, when a large, solemn-faced individual, Quakerish in attire, and evidently not accustomed to the theatre walked in and peered about him at our rich carpets and expensive fittings—pretty much as if he was appraising their value. At the same time, I observed that he was in what one calls a state—a little, perhaps a good deal, upset about something. Wherefore I addressed myself to him in my politest manner and inquired if I could serve him. Thereupon he asked if he could see Miss Adela Chatfield on very important business. Now, I wasn't going to let him see Miss Addie, for I took him to be a man who might have a writ about him, or something nasty of that sort. But at that very moment, Miss Addie, who had been rehearsing, and had come out by the house instead of going through the stage door, came tripping into the vestibule and let off a sharp note of exclamation. After which she and old wooden-face stepped into the street together, and immediately exchanged a few words. And that the old man told her something very serious was abundantly evident from the expression of their respective countenances. But, of course, I never knew what it was, nor who he was, dear boy—not my business, don't you know."
"They went away together, those two?" asked Gilling, favouring
Copplestone with another nudge.
"Up the street together, certainly, talking most earnestly," replied Mr.
Montmorency.
"Ever see that old chap again?" asked Gilling.
"I never did, dear boy,—once was sufficient," said Mr. Montmorency, lightly. "But," he continued, dropping his bantering tone, "are these questions pertinent?—has this to do with this new profession of yours, dear boy? If so—mum's the word, you know."
"I'll tell you what, Monty," answered Gilling. "I wish you'd find out for me where Addie Chatfield lodged when she was here that time. Can it be done? Between you and me, I do want to know about that, old chap. Never mind why, now—I will tell you later. But it's serious."