He sprang out of bed, dressed quickly, hurried over his coffee and rolls, boarded a cross-town car, and arrived at the Monmouth House flats just in time to meet Martha Grimes issuing into the street.  She was not at all the same Martha.  She was very neatly dressed, her shoes were nicely polished, her clothes well brushed, her gloves new, and she wore a bunch of fresh-looking violets in her waistband.  She started in surprise as Philip accosted her.

“Whatever are you doing back in the slums?” she demanded.  “Any fresh trouble?”

“Nothing particular,” Philip replied, turning round and falling into step with her.  “I can’t see my way, that’s all, and I want to talk to you.  You’re the most human person I know, and you understand Elizabeth.”

“Gee!” she smiled.  “This is the lion and the mouse, with a vengeance.  You can walk with me, if you like, as far as the block before the theatre.  I’m not going to arrive there with you, and I tell you so straight.”

“No followers, eh?”

“There’s no reason to set people talking,” she declared.  “Their tongues wag fast enough at the theatre, as it is.  I’ve only been there for one day’s work, and it seems to me I’ve heard the inside history of every one connected with the place.”

“That makes what I have to say easier,” he remarked.  “Just what do they say about Miss Dalstan and Mr. Sylvanus Power?”

She looked at him indignantly.

“If you think you’re going to worm things out of me—­”

“Don’t be foolish,” he interrupted, a little wearily.  “How could you know anything?  You are only the echo of a thousand voices.  I could find out, if I went where they gossip.  I don’t.  In effect I don’t care, but I am up against a queer situation.  I want to know just what people think of them.  Afterwards I’ll tell you the truth.”

“Well, they profess to think,” she said slowly, “that the theatre belongs to Miss Dalstan, and that she—­”

“Stop, please,” he interrupted.  “I know you hate saying it, and I know quite well what you mean.  Well, what about that?”

“It isn’t my affair.”

“It isn’t true,” he told her.

“Whether it’s true or not, she is one of the best women in the world,” Martha declared vigorously.

“There isn’t any doubt about that, either,” he assented.  “This is the situation.  Listen.  Sylvanus Power has been in love with Elizabeth for the best part of his life.  He built that theatre for her and offered it—­at a price.  She accepted his terms.  When the time came for payment, he saw her flinch.  He went away again and has just come back.  She is face to face now with a decision, a decision to which she is partly committed.  In the meantime, during these last few months, Elizabeth and I have become great friends.  You know that I care for her.  I think that she cares for me.  She has to make up her mind.  Martha, which is she to choose?”