Pascale Auber & the Ruritanian Riddle

XLI At the Theatre - 3

If you love the operetta as I do, you know that there are no words which can entirely convey the delight of a good performance. If you do not enjoy the operetta, then any attempt at description will bore you to tears. I will, therefore, confine my praises by saying only that the plot was funny, the orchestra was excellent, and that noted diva, Miss Silverstar, was in excellent voice. When the curtain fell for the intermission, I had that dreamy feeling of unreality that sometimes accompanies the end of a good book. Theo turned in his seat to face me with a smile.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked, eyes sparkling.

I nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth.

"Good," he replied, standing. He held out a hand, which I took, my eyes curious. "I want to introduce you to someone," Theo explained.

He led me back through the velvet curtains, down a flight of stairs, and along a corridor. The corridor terminated at a door marked 'Staff'. Behind the door was another staircase, and we continued to descend. We came out in a large hall lined with long tables. The chairs were filled with people, some of whom I knew on sight.

"Ah! The musician's lounge!" I said, waving to a friend of my brother's. "Perhaps we shall see Blaise."

Theo cocked his head to one side, looking a little disappointed. "Ah. I forgot. You must be in and out of here all the time."

I shook my head. "Only now and then. Besides," I said, as we swept past the musician's room and down another corridor, "this is the way to the performer's dressing rooms; I never go down here."

"But perhaps you already know the person whom I wish for you to meet," Theo murmured.

"Oh, I only know musicians," I smiled, "Blaise never introduces me to the stage performers. That will be a new experience for me."

Theo grinned, and kept leading me down the corridor until we came to an unprepossessing wooden door. Theo knocked, and the door was opened by a slightly built teenage girl dressed in the simple gray of the theatre staff.

"Can I help, you, sir?"

Theo reached a hand into the breast pocket of his jacket, drawing out a silver card case. I could see that it was relatively simple, embellished only with the Ruritanian coat of arms and a monogram over which Theo studiously held his thumb. He was also careful to ensure I could not see the name on the front of the embossed card which he passed to the girl.

"Show that to your mistress," Theo said, "and tell her that Theophilus von Hentzau wishes to introduce her to someone."

The girl nodded, and disappeared into the room. I could hear the girl's voice speaking in a low murmur, but could not make out what she was saying.

Then, I heard a different woman's voice, a rich, powerful voice, say "It isn't that dreary child from the Ladies' Dressing Room Review again, is it? I have nothing to say to her!"

The girl's quiet murmuring began again, but I did not attempt to make it out - my ebullient mood had been dashed to pieces. I knew who the person behind the door must be, and whom she was referencing. The woman with the rich voice had to be Cartimandua Silverstar, witness to the Baratrarian Embassy fire. And the dreary child had to be Dahlia, the young reporter who, yesterday, had vowed her findings on the matter would be published today. And I, admittedly muddled after yesterday's second explosion, exhausted, and, I admit, a tad overly-excited about being invited to the theatre, had not read the paper.

I had slept until noon, bathed, ate a leisurely luncheon, and prepared for my outing. At no point had I thought to step out to the newsstand and buy a copy of the newspaper which promised to contain information on my own case. I could picture my boss frowning at me; I could practically hear his disappointed sigh followed by some brusque pronouncement. My stomach hurt.

Before Theo could notice my change in mood, however, the girl reappeared, holding the door open wide. "Please, sir, she said you might come in."