"Yes—but," said Alice, in puzzled, frightened tones, "it—it doesn't sound like him, somehow. How—how slowly he walks! Oh, I hope nothing has happened!"
"Happened? How could there?" asked Ruth, yet with blanched face.
The door opened, and Mr. DeVere entered. It needed but a glance at his white face to show that something had happened—something tragic—and not the tragedy of the theater.
"Oh, Father—Daddy—what is it!" cried Alice, springing to his arms.
"I—I—my——" Mr. DeVere could hardly speak, so hoarse was he. Only a husky whisper came from his lips.
"Are you—are you hurt?" cried Ruth. "Shall I get a doctor?"
"It—it's my voice!" gasped the actor. "It has gone back on me—I can't speak a word to be heard over the footlights! It's my old trouble come back!" and he sank weakly into a chair.