The Hippodrome was crowded on the night of Miss King's first appearance. Jules, in evening dress as usual, leaned against the railing behind the highest tier of seats. At this moment he felt that he had been duped by fate, and he wanted to revenge himself on the crowd that had come to rejoice over his disappointment; for their presence seemed like a personal insult to him. But for the machinations of that crazy Englishwoman, Blanche would now be going on with her work; by this time they might have made arrangements for her visit to America in the early summer. However, the mischief was done, and there was no knowing when it would be undone. Blanche might have recovered in a few weeks from her terror of the plunge; but after once yielding to it, she would probably never get over it.

Jules believed in presentiments, and he had a strong presentiment that Blanche had taken her plunge for the last time. He tried to console himself, however, with the hope that Lottie King would make a failure. The extensive advertising that Marshall had given her made Jules hate the girl; her name had been posted in places all over London where his wife's alone had been. To Jules this was the most cruel evidence of his own decadence.

Half an hour before it was time for Blanche to appear Jules sauntered toward her dressing-room. When he reached the door, he stopped in surprise; he could hear an unfamiliar voice speaking English. Some one must be in there with Blanche and Madeleine. When he entered, he saw a plump, pretty young woman, with a shock of yellow hair and big blue eyes, dressed in a tight-fitting bathing-suit of blue flannel and in blue silk stockings. He recognized her at once from her photographs.

"Hello!" she cried, glancing at Jules familiarly. "Is this him? Introduce me, won't you?"

For a moment Blanche, whose face had been made up and whose figure, dressed in white silk tights, was covered with the cloak she threw off as she entered the ring, looked confused. Then she presented Jules to Miss King, who beamed upon him with extravagant pleasure.

"Your wife's been telling me about you," she said. "I've been making friends with her. I wanted to see what she was like, and I supposed she'd want to see what I was like. So we've agreed not to scratch each other's eyes out. You speak English too, don't you?"

This gave Jules an opportunity to reiterate his story about having learned English in America.

"So you've been to America!" Miss King cried, her eyes bigger than ever, and her open mouth showing her white, square teeth. "Were you with a troupe there?"

Jules shook his head. "I wasn't married then."

"Ah!" The diver glanced sharply at Blanche, and then back at Jules, as if making a rapid calculation of their ages. "Been married long?" she asked.

"A little over a year," Blanche replied.

"Too bad your wife had to give her dive up, ain't it?" the girl said to Jules. "I hear it was great. But I suppose you'll do it again, won't you, when you're better?"

Blanche flushed. "I don't know," she said, with a half-frightened look at Jules.

"Well, I would if I was you. It's sensational things like that that ketches 'em. My act's kind of sensational, but it ain't in it with yours for cold nerve an' grit. When you do it again you'd oughter go to America. You can make a good deal more there than you do here. I came over just for the reputation. It helps you a lot over there if you've made a hit in Europe."

"But you are English, aren't you?" Jules asked.

"Oh, yes, I s'pose I am, in a sort of way. I was born over here, but my father took me to America when I was about six, an' I'm American to the backbone."

"Have you been in the ring long?" Blanche asked.

"No, I only took to giving performances about five years ago; but I've been in the swimming business all my life. My Dad had a swimming school out in 'Frisco; but there's more money in this business. But I guess I'm keeping you folks. It must be most time for your act. Good-bye. P'raps I'll see you later. I'm mighty glad you can speak English," she laughed, with a glance at Jules. "I travelled with a troupe once with a lot of Italians in it, and my, what a time I had tryin' to talk with 'em!"

She hurried out, leaving Jules with a vision of tousled yellow hair, a roguish smile, and gleaming white teeth, and with the sound of a rich contralto voice in his ears. As soon as the door closed, he turned to Blanche.

"How did she happen to come in here?"

"She wanted me to help her with one of her slippers that was torn. Madeleine sewed it up for her."

"Hasn't she got any maid?"

"She left her behind in Manchester. She was sick. She's coming on when she gets better."

Jules merely grunted and walked out of the room. The sound of the contralto voice was still in his ears. What a sweet voice it was! She seemed to him just like an American in spite of her birth, and Jules preferred the Americans to the English. He wondered what her performance was like, and he waited impatiently for Blanche to finish her act on the trapeze and the rope. As his eyes followed Blanche, he kept seeing the tousled hair and the broad smile revealing the white teeth.

It took several moments for the tank to be arranged for the crowning performance. The audience waited in good-natured patience, however, and when finally the plump little figure in blue flannel ran out, there was a round of applause. Lottie King had added a touch of rouge to either cheek, and she looked very pretty as she ran up the flight of steps leading to the edge of the tank, poised there for a moment with the fingers of both hands touching high in the air, and then dived in a graceful curve into the water. She speedily reappeared, shaking her head and laughing, and struck out for the rope that hung from the platform. This she climbed hand over hand, the water dripping from her figure, and glistening on her face.

Jules, whose eyes had been eagerly following her, was surprised to see that she was going to begin her act with the dive, instead of keeping it for the climax. She seemed to take it very coolly, he thought, as she stood on the swaying platform, rubbing her face with a handkerchief and rearranging one of the sleeves of her costume. Then she steadied the platform, and, an instant later, she was cutting, feet foremost, through the air, her arms by her side and her body rigid. When she reached the water, there was very little splashing, and she speedily reappeared, shaking her head again and displaying her white teeth.

Jules had watched the dive breathlessly, Just as he had watched Blanche's on the night when he first saw her in the Cirque Parisien, and now he followed her feats of skill and strength with wonder and fascination. When she remained beneath the surface for more than three minutes he felt as if he himself were stifling, and when she reappeared, calm and smiling, he took a long breath.

He supposed that the rescue of one of the circus hands who fell opportunely into the tank would end the performance; but instead of leaving the ring, Lottie King climbed again to the platform. Surely, Jules thought, she would make a mistake if she repeated that plunge. Instead, however, she swung on the edge, leaped backward into the air, and after several swift turns, fell with a crash into the water. As she swam to the ladder, the band burst into triumphant music, and the audience cheered, and began to climb down from the circular seats and to rush to the spot where she was to make her exit.

Then Jules roused himself. He felt as if he had been in a dream. He had difficulty in reaching Blanche's dressing-room, for the crowd had gathered at the entrance to the ring in order to catch another glimpse of the dripping figure of the diver. When finally he succeeded in making his way there, he found Blanche sitting motionless, her arms resting on the table. He at once divined the cause of her dejection.

"You see what you've brought on yourself," he said. "A lot you'll amount to now! You might as well give up the business."

Madeleine looked at him with mild reproach in her eyes. He paid no attention to her, however. He walked back to the door, and turning, he added: "But you can't stay here all night. I thought you'd be dressed by this time. I'll wait out here for you."

Jules looked anxiously up and down the corridor, but he saw no one. He could hear the noise of the crowd slowly wending out of the Hippodrome, and from the dressing-rooms on either side the buzz of voices. Miss King must have succeeded in making her escape to her room.