“How about yours?”
“I’m just happy. You see, I was right. The play is going to be a great money-maker.”
“It certainly looks that way to-night That means that we shall be able to keep the theater open till the end of the season, and close with the band playing. For all of which we have to thank you!”
“And your clever secretary! Tell me, have you heard anything more about the case?”
“The lawyers telephoned me late this afternoon that the judge had given his decree—in their favor.”
Her hand stole across to his under the robe.
“Of course, we appeal,” Brainard went on; “but they’ve got a strong case. Fraud, of course, but we can’t prove it.”
“Why not? Tell me more about the case. I’ve been meaning to ask you all along; but this play has filled every corner of my little head. Now I can think of something else. Come on upstairs. I don’t feel the least bit sleepy, and you can tell me all about your case—why they won when it’s a fraud.”
“That’s simple enough,” Brainard began, when they had seated themselves in the actress’s tiny parlor. “This man Krutzmacht, it seems, had married his stenographer out there in San Francisco. At least, she’s got a perfectly good certificate.”
“But how could he have really married her, if he was already married?”