"Can you tell me where Miss Riceman"s dressing room is?"
"That first door to the left," answered the girl, tilting her big hat back far enough to allow a glimpse of her questioner.
Dorothy stepped up to the door. Surely Tavia could not be there!
Dorothy"s heart beat furiously. She was trembling so she could hardly knock, but managed to give a faint tap.
"Who?" called a girlish voice.
"Miss Dale," answered Dorothy mechanically, feeling as if she would almost be willing to give up her search for Tavia if she could be well out of the place. There was a moment"s wait and then the door swung open.
"Come in," invited the girl from within the little room. "Oh, you"re Miss-let me see-I"m afraid I"ve forgotten your name-you"re from the _Leader_, aren"t you?"
"No," replied Dorothy, breathing easier, now that she found herself alone with a girl-a simple human being just like any other girl. "I am looking for-for a friend," she went on, stammeringly, "and I thought perhaps you could tell me-"
"You poor child," interrupted Miss Riceman whose toilet was so unceremoniously interrupted "just come in and sit down on this trunk.
Then let me get you something. You actually look ill."
"I"m just-just a little fri-frightened," Dorothy gasped, for indeed she was now feeling queer and dizzy, and it was all getting black before her eyes.
"Nettie!" called the actress, "get me some cold water and call to the girls in the "Lair" and see if they have made coffee. Hurry now," to the woman who helped the actresses dress. Then she offered Dorothy a bottle of smelling salts. "Take a whiff of that," she said kindly. "The woman will be back soon with some ice water. I"m sorry you"re not well. Was it the smell from the gas lights? I don"t see why they make us poor actresses put up with them, when they have electric light in front. It"s abominable! And the smoke from the powder they use to make the lightning!
It fairly chokes me," and she blew aside a curling wreath of vapor that sifted in through the door. A moment later the woman handed in a pitcher of water and a gla.s.s. "No coffee?" in answer to some message. "Well, all right."
The actress flew over to a box that served as a dresser and poured out a gla.s.s of water for Dorothy. As she did so Dorothy had a chance to look at Katherine, whom she imagined might be Tavia. There was not the slightest resemblance now that the actress had her "make-up" off. How could a little paint, powder and the glare from the footlights perform such a miracle, thought Dorothy. This girl was as different from Tavia as Dorothy was herself. And yet she did look so like her-
"Here"s a nice drink of water," spoke Miss Riceman.
"Now please don"t let me bother you so," pleaded Dorothy, sitting up determinedly and trying to look as if nothing was the matter. But she sipped the water gladly. "I"m quite well now, thank you, Miss Riceman, and I"ll not detain you a moment longer from your dressing."
"Nonsense, child, sit still. You won"t bother me the least bit. I"ll go right on. Now tell me who it is you"re looking for?"
Dorothy watched the actress toss aside a ma.s.s of brown hair that was so like Tavia"s. Then she saw a string pulled and-the wig came off. The real, naturally blond hair of Miss Riceman fell in a shower over her shoulders.
Turning to Dorothy the performer instantly realized that the scene was new to her visitor and, with that strange, subtle instinct which seems to characterize the artistic professional woman, she at once relieved the situation by remarking:
"Do you know we never feel like removing our "make-up" before the reporters. Even women representatives of the press (and of course we never admit any others to our dressing rooms) have such a funny way of describing things that I should be mortally afraid of taking off my wig before one. I thought you were Miss-Oh, what"s her name-I never can think of it-from the _Leader_. I expected her to call. But, do you know that women reporters are just the dearest set of rascals in the world? They simply can"t help being funny when it"s a joke on you. Now, whom did you say you were looking for? I do rattle on so!"
All this, of course, was giving Dorothy time-and she needed it badly, for her story was by no means ready for a "dress rehearsal."
But there was something so self-a.s.suring about the actress-she was not in the least coa.r.s.e or loud-spoken-she was, on the contrary, the very embodiment of politeness. Dorothy felt she could talk freely with her about Tavia.
"I am looking for a young girl named Octavia Travers," began Dorothy bravely, "and I thought possibly she might be with this company."
"Was she with this company previously? I don"t seem to recall the name."
"Oh, I don"t know that she is with any company," Dorothy hastened to add, feeling how foolish it must seem to be looking for a girl in a theatrical troupe when one had no more a.s.surance that she might be with such a company than that she might be working in a department store.
"Haven"t you her address?" asked Miss Riceman, as she stood before the gla.s.s, daubing on some cold cream to remove the last of the "make-up"
from her face.
"No," answered Dorothy miserably enough. "I only wish I had."
The actress with the cream jar turned around in time to see the tears coming into Dorothy"s eyes. Miss Riceman dropped the jar down on her improvised dresser and came over to where her visitor sat on the trunk.
"Tell me all about it," she said kindly, sitting down beside Dorothy.
"Perhaps I can help you. She is not your sister, is she?"
"No," was the answer, and then began a confidence of which Dorothy had scarcely believed herself capable. She told how Tavia was as much to her as a sister could be, and how she feared her chum had taken to the stage on account of her peculiarities while at school. Then Dorothy described Tavia"s appearance-how pretty she was-what beautiful hair she had.
"And her eyes," Dorothy almost cried, "I have never seen eyes like Tavia"s. They are as soft a brown as the inside of a chestnut burr."
"Exactly!" chimed in Miss Riceman. "I would not be surprised but that I saw that very girl the other day. It was in the manager"s office. She came alone and she looked-well-I knew at once that she was a total stranger to the business. And when the manager asked how old she was (for they have to be particular about age you know) I think she said seventeen, but I knew she was not quite as old as that."
Dorothy clasped her hands in a strained gesture. How she wanted to find Tavia, yet how she feared to discover her in this way!
"That might be her," she faltered thoughtfully.
"If it was, she is with a company playing on the same circuit we do,"
went on Miss Riceman. "Let me see," and she consulted a slip of paper pinned to the wall. "Yes, they follow us in some towns. It was the "Lady Rossmore"s Secret" company that the girl I am speaking about applied to, and I"m sure she was engaged, for I was interested in her appearance, and later I asked some one about her. Now the thing for you to do is to come to the manager"s office here to-morrow afternoon, between five and six.
He has control of several companies, including the one I"m with and the L. R. S. as we call it for short, the "Lady Rossmore"s Secret" I mean.
Just ask him for your friend"s address-or, better still, just ask where the company is playing and she"ll be sure to be with it. He might not pay much attention to you if he thought you were looking for some one in particular and hadn"t any clue to her whereabouts."
"I"ll do it," said Dorothy determinedly, as she arose to go.
"Now don"t leave here until you are positive you feel all right,"
cautioned Miss Riceman. "I"m sure I"m very glad to have met you and I hope I have been able to help you. I"m sorry I can"t tell you where the Rossmore company is, but I haven"t made a memoranda of the complete booking as I sometimes do. I thought I had it on a slip of paper but I find I haven"t."
"Oh, I"m sure you"ve helped me a lot," exclaimed Dorothy, hardly able to put her grat.i.tude into words, but the busy little actress looked entirely satisfied with her visitor"s thanks as she showed Dorothy the way out of the stage door. She smiled cheerily at her as she waved her hand in good-bye and then she went back behind the scenes again, to her dressing room to resume the removal of the "make-up" from her face.
CHAPTER XIX THE CLUE
Outside the door Dorothy again felt that girlish inclination to collapse.
What excuse could she make to her friends for her delay? How would she get back to them? Perhaps they were looking all over the city for her and they might have even notified the police of her absence.
All the novelty of the theatre that had, for the past half hour, put a world between Dorothy and those outside of the stage dressing rooms, was now dispelled. What would she say or do when she met Rose-Mary? How could she now conceal her worry and anxiety? How was she to continue her search for Tavia?
The stage door opened into a dismal, narrow alley. Here Dorothy found herself in the midst of a scurrying crowd of working people, for several large factories had just shut down. The girl stood for a moment and looked helplessly about her. Presently she felt an arm on her shoulder and started in alarm.
"Dorothy!" exclaimed a voice, and she turned to see Nat standing beside her.
"Oh, Nat! I"m so glad!"
"So am I. Just step along this way. I knew you hadn"t come out the front way so I came here."
Dorothy pressed her shoulder against her cousin in a helpless, imploring sort of way. He seemed to know what the action meant for instantly he had ready to recite, a most plausible explanation of her disappearance.