Stromboli burst in upon me in a state of exceptional excitement.
"Listen!" he cried, gesticulating energetically; and I answered that I
had anticipated his wishes and was already listening.
"I have news for you," he continued.
"What news?" I asked.
"I was already telling you when you interrupted me," he replied. "I
have had an idea, and with the rapidity of genius I have carried it into
execution."
"What sort of idea?"
"_Voyons_! an idea that was at once brilliant and simple. Let me
explain."
"By all means do so."
"Then listen! The great popularity of the stories which I have been
telling you inspired me with the idea. It occurred to me, while I was
occupied with my toilet, that I might profitably address a larger
audience. I completed my toilet. I put on my hat. I chased an omnibus.
It conveyed me to the Waterloo Road, where I descended from it."
"A strange neighbourhood to seek," I interposed.
"You think so? But I had my plan. I descended from the omnibus at a
door whereupon was a brass plate bearing the words, 'Musical and
Dramatic Agent.'"
"Heavens!" I ejaculated, beginning to understand, and Stromboli
proceeded--
"The door was open, and I walked in. I found myself in an antechamber,
surrounded by men with blue chins, and young women with blue eyes and
fair hair, who stared at me curiously. I took no more notice of them
than if they had been waxwork models, but walked on to another door,
leading to an inner room. A young man--a clerk of some kind--presumed
to bar my progress. I swept him before me and so forced my passage into
the presence of the 'Dramatic and Musical Agent.'"
"I presume," I said, "that the 'Dramatic and Musical Agent' was
surprised to see you."
"Naturally. 'Who the dickens are you, sir?' was his brusque but kindly
greeting. 'Who should I be but Jean Antoine Stromboli Kosnapulski?' I
replied. 'What do you want here?' he asked inquisitively. 'I am here
to do business with you to our mutual advantage,' I explained. And with
that I sat down affably in his arm-chair and engaged him in a serious
conversation."
"What!" I explained. "You don't mean to tell me that you are going on
the music-halls in the character of a performing Revolutionist?"
Stromboli seemed hurt.
"It has been arranged," he said, "that I am to give a series of lectures
on my experiences at certain Palaces of Varieties. The general title of
the series is to be, 'Disturbances that I have Made.' It is not
precisely what I contemplated in my youth; but it is a way, like
another, of making provision for my age."
"Precisely," I said, seeing that it was useless to argue with him.
"With which of your thrilling experiences are you meaning to begin?"
"With a certain further experience of a Central American republic,"
Stromboli answered.
"Your exploits in that quarter of the world do not seem to have been of
a very satisfactory character," I objected.
"I certainly had my ups and downs there," Stromboli admitted. "Central
America is a place where the unexpected happens on the smallest
provocation. But that, I take it, is no disadvantage from the
story-teller's point of view."