CHAPTER VII.

MARION MAKES ANOTHER ENEMY

For a second Marion Marlowe was almost paralyzed with fright, but as she felt the fellow’s mustache touching her cheek she raised her right hand and gave him a blow with all the force of her strong young muscles.

“Take that for your impudence, you cur!” she whispered, tensely.

Jack Green released her and fell back a step, and just at that moment Carlotta came out of her dressing-room.

“Hello!” she said, abruptly, as she caught sight of Marion. “You here again to-night, you little simpleton!”

Marion Marlowe was now trembling with indignation already, but at the woman’s words she became suddenly calm.

“Certainly I am here, Carlotta!” she said, quietly, “where else should I be but keeping my engagements?”

“She means that she is engaged to me,” spoke up Jack Green, sneeringly. “I was just sealing our betrothal with a kiss or two,” he added.

“How dare you!” cried Marion, turning on him furiously.

Carlotta sneered as she came a little nearer.

“I thought your goodness was all put on,” she said, coldly. “So you prefer a ‘property man’ to a gentleman, do you?”

The beautiful young girl turned on her heel with a disdainful glance. She had had quite enough of this sort of thing for one evening.

As she walked deliberately to her dressing-room, both Carlotta and Green stared after her, and in spite of their anger they could not conceal their admiration.

“By gad! But she’s a corker!” was the property man’s exclamation.

“She thinks because the public likes her that she owns the show,” muttered Carlotta, “but I’ll fix her yet, the little country hussy!”

“Well, Graham is dead gone on her all right,” said the man quickly, eying the woman sharply as he spoke to see how she took it.

“Clayte Graham is a knave and a fool,” she hissed fiercely. “I’ll teach him to play fast and loose with a woman like Carlotta.”

“You ought to have a pretty taut string on him by this time,” said the fellow, shrewdly, “and you ain’t the woman to be cut out by a snip of a girl like that.”

“I should say not, Green,” said the woman slowly; then she seemed to think of something, for she turned and looked at him earnestly.

Jack Green was too shrewd not to know what he was doing. He had an end to gain or he would not have been neglecting his own duties at that minute. This woman, Carlotta, had never noticed him before. She had always held her head very high where the property man was concerned, and her constant disdain had nettled him sorely.

Like many another man, he desired what was beyond him; but now his opportunity had come to accomplish his ends; he had only to help her wreak her vengeance on another.

“Green,” whispered the woman, suddenly, as she took a step nearer, “Help me to sully that girl’s character so that Clayte Graham will believe it and I will reward you handsomely. Say, will you do it?”

A dull gleam of light flashed from the property man’s eyes as he half closed his eyelids and peered at her through them.

Carlotta’s face flushed through her paint and she drew back quickly. She read his meaning.

“Think!” urged the man, “your position is at stake! If Graham falls in love with that girl he will drop you in a minute, and, mark my words, it will be a long day, Carlotta, before you get another rich lover.”

“Well, how can you help me?” asked the woman, shrewdly.

“Dead easy,” was the prompt answer. “I’ll fix that all right. I’ll compromise her myself if I can’t find any one else to do it; but my reward, Carlotta?”

“You shall have your reward,” said the woman in a chilling whisper, “when that girl’s character is ruined.”

* * * * *

The first “call” was given as Carlotta hurried back to her room, and Jack Green turned hastily to attend to business.

A second later there was a slight noise behind a stack of old scenery and after another second a girl slipped out from the mass, and shaking her skirts clear ran softly to her dressing-room.

“So that is the kind of a fellow you are, Jack Green,” she murmured to herself, at the same time wringing her small hands in perfect agony.

Marion Marlowe was ready to “go on” when this girl reached the dressing-room. It was a little box of a place, but they occupied it together.

“Oh, Miss Lindsay, what is the matter?” said Marion, quickly. “You look terribly pale. Has anything happened? Are you ill? Is there anything I can do for you?”

To all of these questions Miss Lindsay only shook her head. She was a frail, delicate girl, whom the others had nicknamed “The Feather.”

Marion saw at once that the girl did not wish her sympathy, so she said nothing more, but went over by the door to wait where she could hear the call to the wings.

Miss Lindsay hurried into her stage costume as quickly as possible, but she took very little pains with it.

“What is the use of trying to look pretty?” she said finally. “No one cares how I look, so I’m not going to bother.”

“Oh, I am sure somebody cares,” said Marion, quickly, “and really, Miss Lindsay, you should put on more rouge. You are awfully pale. I am afraid the calcium will make you look ghastly.”

“I don’t care if it does,” said the girl indifferently, but she did smear a little of the red stuff across her cheeks and eyelids.

There was another call and the chorus came rushing from the stairs—in less than a moment the overture would be ended.

Marion did not have to go on for some little time, but she followed slowly down the stairs, in order to stand in the wings, as she always enjoyed listening to the chorus.

Just as she reached the stairs she observed one of the chorus girls waiting for her. As she peered through the dim light she saw that it was Miss Lindsay.

“Perhaps she is going to confide in me, after all,” Marion thought. “Poor thing, she is in some trouble—any one can see it.”

“What is it?” she asked, as she reached the girl and put one hand tenderly on her shoulder.

There was a curious look in the girl’s eyes as she answered. She put her face up close to Marion’s so that no one would hear her.

“If anything should happen to me to-night, Signorita, I want you to tell Jack that I was watching behind the pile of old scenery. I saw him with you and with her, Carlotta,” she whispered, “so if anything happens he will understand it.”

“But what can happen?” asked Marion, sharply.

The girl darted down the stairs without stopping to answer.

“Oh, she is planning something desperate!” murmured Marion, “and great Heaven! she can accomplish it, too, if she wishes, for every one of the chorus carries a sword in this act! Oh, I must go this minute and warn Mr. Graham!”