The good-natured Brabazons made room for me between them in the second row, just behind Mrs. Dane and the general, who turned about to compliment me. At this moment the Marquise appeared upon the stage, and received a round of applause. I noticed the strange lady in front examining her programme and whispering to her husband; then she turned her attention to the actors, and looked at the Marquise (the cynosure of all eyes) with a sort of fixed glare. The play was going splendidly, the prompter's voice was rarely heard. The chief honours fell to my chaperon, whose acting was simply magnificent.
During the interval between the second and third acts, I noticed Mrs. Dane and the strange lady engaged in earnest conversation, and caught the name "Mrs. de Lacy." I also observed that Mrs. Dane seemed very much perturbed and upset.
_The Scrap of Paper_ ended in a triumph. There were repeated calls before the curtain, which were accepted by the Marquise and Suzanne, who appeared, curtsied hand in hand, and received a boisterous ovation. This delightful evening concluded with a little supper-party at the Wrays', and it was long after one o'clock in the morning before I found myself in bed.
As the result of such dissipation I was not a very early riser--neither was Mrs. Hayes-Billington. Verbal messages are uncertain in India, and even to someone in the same house you send a pencilled note or "chit." I had received a chit to say "Have an awful headache, do not expect to see me till quite late. D. B."
I spent the remainder of the morning in writing letters, doing a little mending, and finishing an engrossing novel. At tiffin, of which I partook in solitude, the _chokra_ was my sole attendant, and when I inquired for Fernandez, our factotum, he replied, "Missie done send Fernandez with one telegram. Fernandez stopping all the time in bazaar."
As our letters had arrived, I concluded that my chaperon had received some important news, and never gave the matter another thought.
Strange to say that morning there were none of the usual visitors; a certain number of our intimates and neighbours generally looked in, in passing, to ask questions, make engagements, exchange bits of news, and to borrow or to lend. To-day not a soul appeared! The veranda was a desert, save for the _dirzee_ and myself. This did not strike me as odd, because most people of our acquaintance were fagged after the previous night's excitement, and were no doubt "lying low" in anticipation of the evening's entertainment.