“In the park.  He was with the woman that plays the Adventuress.  Ugly old thing.”

I drew a long breath of relief.  For I knew that the Adventuress was at least thirty and perhaps more.  Besides being both wicked and cruel, and not at all femanine.

Hannah brought the ice-water and then came in the most madening way and put her hand on my Forehead.

“I’ve done nothing but bring you ice-water for to days,” she said.  “Your head’s hot.  I think you need a musterd foot bath and to go to bed.”

“Hannah,” Jane said, in her loftyest fashion, “Miss Barbara is woried, not ill.  And please close the door when you go out.”

Which was her way of telling Hannah to go.  Hannah glared at her.

“If you take my advice, Miss Jane,” she said.  “You’ll keep away from Miss Barbara.”

And she went out, slaming the door.

“Well!” gasped Jane.  “Such impertanence.  Old servant or not, she ought to have her mouth slaped.”

Well, I told Jane the plan and she was perfectly crazy about it.  I had a headache, but she helped me into my street things, and got Sis’s rose hat for me while Sis was at the telephone.  Then we went out.

First we telephoned Carter Brooks, and he said tomorrow morning would do, and he’d give a couple of reporters the word to hang around father’s office at the mill.  He said to have Adrian there at ten o’clock.

“Are you sure your father will do it?” he asked.  “We don’t want a flivver, you know.”

“He’s making a principal of it,” I said.  “When he makes a principal of a thing, he does it.”

“Good for father!” Carter said.  “Tell him not to be to gentle.  And tell your Actor-friend to make a lot of fuss.  The more the better.  I’ll see the Policeman at the mill, and he’ll probably take him up.  But we’ll get him out for the matinee.  And watch the evening papers.”

It was then that a terrable thought struck me.  What if Adrian considered it beneath his profession to advertize, even if indirectly?  What if he prefered the failure of Miss Everett’s couzin’s play to a bruize on the eye?  What, in short, if he refused?

Dear Dairy, I was stupafied.  I knew not which way to turn.  For Men are not like Women, who are dependible and anxious to get along, and will sacrifise anything for Success.  No, men are likely to turn on the ones they love best, if the smallest Things do not suit them, such as cold soup, or sleaves to long from the shirt-maker, or plans made which they have not been consulted about beforhand.

“Darling!” said Jane, as I turned away, “you look stricken!”

“My head aches,” I said, with a weary gesture toward my forehead.  It did ache, for that matter.  It is acheing now, dear Dairy.

However, I had begun my task and must go through with it.  Abandoning Jane at a corner, in spite of her calling me cruel and even sneeking, I went to Adrian’s hotel, which I had learned of during my seance in his room while he was changing his garments behind a screan, as it was marked on a dressing case.