She put out a hand, and I squeezed it tenderly. After a moment she departed to inspect her costume.
"I haven't a maid or a dresser," she called over her shoulder. "Everything has to be in perfect order, and I myself must see to it."
We watched her as she hurried away, both of us sober.
"I think I know why you fret so about her safety," Pursuivant said to me. "You felt, too, that the thing she said might be a bad omen."
"Then may her second word be a good omen," I returned.
"Amen to that," he said heartily.
Dinnertime came, and Pursuivant and I made a quick meal of it. We excused ourselves before the others—Sigrid looked up in mild astonishment that I should want to leave her side—and went quickly downstairs to the stage.
On the property table lay the cudgel I was to use in the first act, the sword I was to strike with in the second, the feather duster to be wielded by Martha Vining as Bridget, a tray with a wine service to be borne by Davidson as Oscar. There was also a great book, bound in red cloth, with red edging.
"That is the Bible," said Pursuivant at once. "I must have a look at it."