It was on the evening of the day on which he had told Will of Miall & Welling's downfall. After having ascertained the truth of the report, he had gone to spend the remainder of the day at his club, in talking, reading, and dining; and when he did think of going round to the theatre, he found that the piece in which Annie Brunel played would be over, and she gone home. This was as he wished.
So he made his way up the well-worn wooden steps until he reached the "flies," where he found Mr. Melton, seated on the drum which rolled up the drop-scene, in earnest talk with a carpenter. On seeing the Count, the man walked away, and Mr. Melton rose.
"Welcome back to England!" said the manager, rather nervously. "I have been most anxious to see you."
"Ah," said the Count.
"Indeed, the strangest thing has happened—completely floored me—never heard the like," continued Mr. Melton, hurriedly. "Have you seen Miss Brunel?"
"No," said the Count.
"Not since you returned?"
"No."
"You are not acquainted with her resolution?"
"No."