Anna the Adventuress

Anna got up and looked at the mirror and then at the poster. The

likeness was ridiculous.

"Well?" she said, sitting down again. "I want an engagement."

"Capital!" Mr. Earles declared. "Any choice as to which of the Halls?

You can pick and choose, you know. I recommend the 'Unusual.'"

"I have no choice," Anna declared.

"I can get you," Mr. Earles said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed upon

her, "forty at the 'Unusual,' two turns, encores voluntary, six for

matinees. We should not bar any engagements at private houses, but in

other respects the arrangement must be exclusive."

"Forty what?" Anna asked bewildered.

"Guineas, of course," Mr. Earles answered, glibly. "Forty guineas a

week. I mentioned sixty, I believe, when I was in Paris, but there are

expenses, and just now business is bad."

Anna was speechless, but she had presence of mind enough to sit still

until she had recovered herself. Mr. Earles watched her anxiously. She

appeared to be considering.

"Of course," he ventured, "I could try for more at the 'Alhambra.' Very

likely they would give----"

"I should be satisfied with the sum you mention," Anna said quietly,

"but there are difficulties."

"Don't use such a word, my dear young lady," Mr. Earles said

persuasively. "Difficulties indeed. We'll make short work of them."

"I hope that you may," Anna answered enigmatically. "In the first

place, I have no objection to the posters, as they have no name on

them, but I do not wish to appear at all upon the stage as 'Alcide.'

If you engage me it must be upon my own merits. You are taking it for

granted that I am 'Alcide.' As a matter of fact, I am not."

"Excuse me," Mr. Earles said, "but this is rubbish."

"Call it what you like," Anna answered. "I can sing the songs 'Alcide'

sang, and in the same style. But I will not be engaged as 'Alcide' or

advertised under that name."

Mr. Earles scratched his chin for a moment thoughtfully. Then a light

seemed to break in upon him. He slapped his knee.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "Of course, I remember now. It was your

sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn't it?"

Anna nodded.

"It was," she admitted.

"You needn't say a word more," Mr. Earles declared. "I see the

difficulty. The old fool's been working on you through your sister to

keep off the stage. He's a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir

John--doesn't know what an artist is. It's awkward, but we'll get

round it somehow. Now I'll tell you what I propose. Let me run you for

six months. I'll give you, say, thirty-five guineas a week clear of

expenses, and half of anything you earn above the two turns a night.

What do you say?"