Clifford was determined to see the first night’s performance but he
decided not to tell Elliott, as that youth might also wish to see it. No,
he would not mention it to Elliott; he would quietly arrange it for Selby
to play the dummy and blow a cotton-stuffed cornet beside Elliott. True,
the flourish of trumpets that was to announce the entrance of the Queen
would be, strictly speaking, a flourish of one cornet, but Bock could
never know and the audience wouldn’t either for that matter. So he spoke
to Selby and gave him his stuffed cornet.
“There’s no cornet in the overture, you know—it’s that stringed affair of
Lalo’s. You are to watch Elliott and pretend to toot when he does. The
first flourish is when the Queen comes in,” he explained to Selby.
Then he went to bed, chuckling, for he had covertly secured the last
seat but one in a prominent box, and he chuckled again as he thought of
Elliott’s fury on beholding him among the spectators.
All the next day he chuckled too, watching Elliott furtively. The latter
seemed very unsuspicious; he did not even mention a wish to view the
performance. And at last the impatiently expected night arrived.
The Théâtre Bobinot was ablaze; banners waved from the mansard; posters
flamed under the gas jets outside,—big yellow posters announcing “THE
QUEEN OF SIAM!”
Inside the theatre the orchestra was assembling.