"Good God!" said I, "not Mabel Bellamy that did the disappearing trick at the Folies Bergères in Paris two years ago?"
"The same," says he.
"And you are telling me——"
"That she was a very fine actress. Do you deny it, Mr. Britten?"
I rose and buttoned my coat—but the black look was in his eyes again.
"Britten," says he, "not in so much of a hurry, if you please. I am going round to the Daily Herald this afternoon to get that five hundred. You will sit here until I return, when I shall pay you fifty of the best. Is it a bargain, Britten—have we the right to the money or have you?"
I thought upon it for a moment and could not deny the justice of it.
"Do you mean to say you did it for an advertisement?" I cried.
"The very same," says he, "and this night, Mabel's fond papa, the gentleman with the big eyes, Britten, will go to Hampstead and take his long-lost daughter to his breast. She makes her first appearance at the Casino Theatre to-morrow night, Britten——"
I rose and shook him by the hand.