"You'retoberobb'd, yes, madam, youretobe robb'd."
"Robbed!"
"Yes, madam, robb'd. Oneyou have fondly robbed intendsto loveyou."
A shout went up at this, a shout that speedily became a roar. Of course Palmer meant to say, "One you have fondly loved intends to rob you," but he was hopelessly bewildered, and hardly knew what he was doing. For once his self-confidence had entirely left him.
"Go! I will not believe it!" cried the rich lady. "Leave my sight!"
"Yes, madam, Iwillgo, but—but——" Livingston Palmer stared around wildly. He wanted to add, "I can prove what I have to say," but the words became mixed as before. "Icansay—whatIcanprove—I mean, I provetosay what I can—I can say what Icansay——"
"Then go and say it!" yelled somebody from the gallery. "Say it, and give somebody else a chance to talk."
"Say, but this is a bum company," added somebody else.
"Worst I ever saw!" came from a third party. And then followed a storm of hisses. In the midst of this Palmer hurried from the stage. At once Dixon collared him.
"Palmer, what do you mean by this?" demanded the manager. "Have you lost your wits?"