Audrey got away from the group in front of the restaurant with stammering¹ words and crimson² confusion. She ran. She stopped a taxi and stumbled into it. There remained with her vividly³ the vision of the startled, entirely⁴ puzzled face of Mr. Gilman, who in an instant had been transformed from a happy, dignified⁵ and excusably self-satisfied human male into an outraged⁶ rebel whose grievance⁷ had overwhelmed his dignity. She had said hurriedly: “Please excuse me not coming with you. But Tommy says something’s happened to Musa, and I must go and see. It’s very important.” And that was all she had said. Had she asked him to drive her to Musa’s, Mr. Gilman would have been very pleased to do so; but she did not think of that till it was too late. Her precipitancy had been terrible, and had staggered even Tommy. She had no idea how the group would arrange itself. And she had no very clear idea as to what was wrong with Musa or how matters stood in regard to the concert. Tommy had asserted that she did not know whether the orchestra and its conductor meant to be at their desks in the evening just as though nothing whatever had occurred at the rehearsal⁸. All was vague, and all was disturbing. She had asked Tommy the authority for her assertion that she, Audrey, was financing the concert. To which Tommy had replied that she had “guessed, of course.” And seeing that Audrey had only interviewed a concert agent once—and he a London concert agent with relations in Paris —and that she had never uttered a word about the affair to anybody except Mr. Foulger, who had been keeping an eye on the expenditure⁹, it was not improbable that Tommy had just guessed. But she had guessed right. She was an uncanny woman. “Have you ever spoken to Musa about—it?” Audrey had

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