In a box to the left of
the dress-circle sat, "laughing all hyaenally", the following
distinguished visitors:
Mr Mulholland of No. 7 College Buildings.
Mr Raynes of No. 4 ditto,
and
Mr Kay.
Fenn drew back like a flash, knocking his chair over as he did so.
"Giddy, sir?" said a stage hand, pleasantly. "Bless you, lots of gents
is like that when they comes up here. Can't stand the 'eight, they
can't. You'll be all right in a jiffy."
"Yes. It--it is rather high, isn't it?" said Fenn. "Awful glare, too."
He picked up his chair and sat down well out of sight of the box. Had
they seen him? he wondered. Then common sense returned to him. They
could not possibly have seen him. Apart from any other reasons, he had
only been in his brother's seat for half-a-dozen seconds. No. He was
all right so far. But he would have to get back to the house, and at
once. With three of the staff, including his own house-master, ranging
the town, things were a trifle too warm for comfort. He wondered it
had not occurred to him that, with a big attraction at the theatre,
some of the staff might feel an inclination to visit it.
He did not stop to say goodbye to his brother. Descending from his
perch, he hurried to the stage door.
"It's in the toobs that I feel it, sir." said the door-keeper, as he
let him out, resuming their conversation as if they had only just
parted.
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