Rose always insisted that she was psychic, and I have some faith myself
in presentiments. At any rate, we both declared, on that Monday night
before the curtain went up, that something was going to happen. Leonard
had no convictions of the sort himself but he was favourably disposed
towards our attitude. He put the matter succinctly.
"Here we are," he pointed out, "sold to the devil, body and soul, and if
the old boy doesn't make some use of us, I shall begin to be afraid the
whole thing's coming to an end. Five pounds a week, and a reserve fund
for costumes and posters suits me very nicely, thank you."
"I don't think you need worry," I told him. "It doesn't seem reasonable
to imagine that we've been sent to the slums of Liverpool for nothing."
"Then there are those posters," Rose put in, "offering prizes to
amateurs. I'm quite certain there's some method in that. Besides----"
She hesitated. We both pressed her to go on.
"You'll think this silly, but for the last three nights I've had a queer
sort of feeling that Mr. Thomson was somewhere in the audience. I can't
explain it. I looked everywhere for him. I even tried looking at the
people one by one, all down the rows. I never saw any one in the least
like him. All the same, I expected to hear his voice at any moment."
"Granted the old boy's Satanic connections," Leonard observed, "he may
appear to us in any form. Brimstone and horns are clean out of date.
He'll probably send his disembodied voice with instructions."
I strolled to the wings and had a look at the house. Although it still
wanted a quarter of an hour before the performance was due to commence,
the hall was almost packed with people. The audience, as was natural
considering the locality, was a pretty tough lot. It seemed to consist
chiefly of stewards and sailors from the great liners which lay in the
river near by, with a sprinkling of operatives and some of the smaller
shopkeepers. The study of faces has always interested me, and there were
two which I picked out from the crowd during that brief survey and
remembered. One was the face of a youngish man, dressed in the clothes
of a labourer and seated in a dark corner of the room. He was very pale,
almost consumptive-looking, with a black beard which looked as though it
had been recently grown, and coal black hair. His features were utterly
unlike the features of his presumed class, and there was a certain
furtiveness about his expression which puzzled me. A quietly dressed
girl sat by his side, whose face was even more in the shadow than his,
but it struck me that she had been crying, and that for some reason or
other there was a disagreement between her and the young man. The other
person whom I noticed was a stout, middle-aged man, with curly black
hair, a rather yellow complexion, of distinctly Semitic appearance. His
hands were folded upon his waistcoat, he was smoking with much obvious
enjoyment a large cigar, and his eyes were half-closed, as though he
were enjoying a brief rest. I put him down as a small shopkeeper, for
choice a seller of ready-made garments, who had had a long day's work
and was giving himself a treat on the strength of it.
At half-past seven the hall was crammed and the curtain rang up. We went
through the first part of our programme with a reasonable amount of
success, Leonard in particular getting two encores for one of his
humorous songs. At the beginning of the second part, I came out upon the
stage and made the little speech which our mysterious patron's wishes
rendered necessary.
"Ladies and gentlemen," I said, "I have much pleasure in announcing,
according to our posters outside, that if there are any amateurs here
willing to try their luck upon the stage, either with a song or a dance,
we shall be very happy to provide them with music and any slight change
of costume. A prize of one pound will be given to the performer whose
song meets with the greatest approval, and a second prize of five
shillings for the next most successful item."
I gagged on for a few more minutes, trying to encourage those whom I
thought likely aspirants, amidst the laughter and cheers of the
audience. Presently a showily dressed young woman threw aside a cheap
fur cloak, displaying a low-cut blue satin gown, jumped nimbly on to the
stage, ignoring my outstretched hand, and held out a roll of music to
Rose, who came smilingly from the background.
"I'll try 'The Old Folks down Wapping Way', dear," she announced, "and
don't you hurry me when the sloppy stuff comes. I like to give 'em time
for a snivel or two. Sit you down at the piano. I'm that nervous, I
can't stand fussing about here."
They bent over the music together and I turned back to the audience.
There were only two others who showed any disposition to follow the
example of the lady in blue satin. One was the young man whom I had
previously noticed, and who had now risen to his feet. It was obvious
that the girl by his side was doing all she could to dissuade him from
his purpose. I could almost hear the sob in her throat as she tried to
drag him back to his place. I myself felt curiously indisposed to
interfere, but Leonard, who was standing by my side, and who saw them
for the first time, imagining that a word of encouragement was all that
was necessary, concluded the business.
"Come along, sir," he called out. "You look as though you had a good
tenor voice, and nothing fetches 'em like it. You let him come, my dear,
and he'll buy you a new hat with the money."
The young man shook himself free and stepped on to the platform,
obviously ill at ease at the cheer which his enterprise evoked. He was
followed, to my surprise, by the middle-aged man whom I had previously
noticed.
"Here, Mister," was his greeting, as he stepped on to the platform,
"I'll have a go at 'em. Sheeny patter and a clog dance, eh?"
"You must find me some sort of a change," the young man insisted
hurriedly.
"And I'll tidy up a bit myself," his rival observed. "We'll let the gal
have first go."
I conducted them behind and showed the young man into the men's dressing
room.
"You'll find an old dress suit of mine there," I pointed out. "Change as
quickly as you can. I don't fancy the young lady will hold them for
long."
He nodded and drew me a little on one side. His manner was distinctly
uneasy, and his clothes were shabbier even than they had seemed at a
distance, but his voice was the voice of a person of education,
pleasant, notwithstanding a queer, rather musical accent which at the
moment was unfamiliar to me.
"Shall I be able to lock my things up?" he asked, in an undertone. "No
offence," he went on hastily, "only I happen to be carrying something
rather valuable about with me."