"It's really wonderful what an empty pistol can do with some fellows," said Reg to himself, as he drank a glass of wine and straightened the table.
"Miss Williamson," he continued, musing to himself, "Marjorie Williamson; you are the poor victim who lost your mother and your livelihood through the same man. I must see you, for you and I ought to shake hands."
Half-an-hour later, he entered the Caledonian Theatre by the stage-door, at the entrance of which he was confronted by an old fellow, who gruffly enquired his business.
"I want a little information. What's your name?"
"Well, what is it you want to know?" said Jones, looking suspiciously at him.
"No, I can't; and what's more, you'd better clear. She was ruined by one of you cursed--"
"Stay, Jones, I understand you. I don't come here as one of those vile cattle who hang round stage doors. I want to offer help and sympathy."
"Then you can go away, for she don't want either," said Jones, pointing to the door.
"My good fellow, I see you are a friend of hers, and I am glad to find she has one so good and true."
"Then listen. The same man who ruined that girl, and killed her mother, killed also the girl I loved, the girl I had been engaged to for years. And I now look for my revenge."
"But what has she to do with it?" asked he, in a softer voice.
"I want to know her. I want her to have her revenge too. I am a rich man and I am off on his tracks to Australia next Friday."
"I don't think she'd see you, sir. She's never seen a gent since."
"Yes, sir, I am. Her dead mother and I were old friends. She was one of the good sort. She didn't put on airs because her daughter was a great actress. She used to sit and talk to me every night."
"Jones, you can manage it. Come, we'll go together."
As they drove along very little conversation passed between the two. At length the cab stopped at a house in a shabby street in Camden Town. "You stay here, sir, until I've seen her," said Jones, as he knocked at the door. The curtain was drawn aside for a moment before he was admitted. Five, ten minutes elapsed, and he did not return. Reg became impatient, but at last he heard the door open, and Jones was saying, "You see him, Miss Marjorie, he has a good face." But still she seemed to hesitate, and Reg, without waiting for more, walked up to her and grasping her hand, said in an earnest voice: