Upon the conclusion of the phenomenally brief run of The Poisoned Kiss at the Sceptre Theatre, Mrs. Gudrun, who had sustained the heroic r?le of Aldapora “with abounding¹ verve and true histrionic inwardness” (to cull² a quotation³ from the enthusiastic notice which appeared in the Theatrical⁴ Piffer), and whose sculpturesque temples throbbed⁶ no less with the weight of the dramatic laurels⁷ heaped upon them than with the heady quality of the champagne⁸ with which those laurels had been liberally drowned—Mrs. Gudrun left the author and the Syndicate, per their Business Representative, exchanging poignant⁹ personalities¹⁰ over a non-existent percentage, and hied her to the Gallic capital for recreation and repose¹¹; bearing in her train the leading man, Mr. Leo De Boo, a young actor who had chipped the egg of obscurity in the recent production. De Boo was “a splendid specimen¹² of virile¹³ beauty,” according to the Greenroom Rag—all shoulders, legs, nose, and curls, without any perceptible forehead; and Teddy Candelish, most ubiquitous of acting¹⁴-managers, came within an

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