The Old Adam: A Story of Adventure

  VII.

  The next night, just before the curtain went up, he stood on the stageof the Regent Theatre, and it is a fact that he was trembling--not withfear but with simple excitement.

  Through what a day he had passed! There had been the rehearsal in themorning; it had gone off very well, save that Rose Euclid had behavedimpossibly, and that the Cunningham girl, the hit of the piece butousted from her part, had filled the place with just lamentations andrecriminations.

  And then had followed the appalling scene with Rose Euclid. Rose,leaving the theatre for lunch, had beheld the workmen removing her namefrom the electric sign and substituting that of Isabel Joy. She was awoman and an artist, and it would have been the same had she been a manand an artist. She would not submit to this inconceivable affront. Shehad resigned her role. She had ripped her contract to bits and flungthe bits to the breeze. Upon the whole Edward Henry had been glad. Hehad sent for Miss Cunningham, who was Rose's understudy, had given herinstructions, called another rehearsal for the afternoon and effected asaving of nearly half Isabel Joy's fantastic salary. Then he enteredinto financial negotiations with four evening papers and managed to buy,at a price, their contents-bills for the day. So that all the West Endwas filled with men and boys wearing like aprons posters which bore thewords: "Isabel Joy to appear at the Regent to-night." A great andoriginal stroke!

  And now he gazed through the peep-hole of the curtain upon a crammed andhalf-delirious auditorium. The assistant stage manager ordered him off.The curtain went up on the drama in hexameters. He waited in the wings,and spoke soothingly to Isabel Joy who, looking juvenile in the airycostume of the Messenger, stood flutteringly agog for her cue.... Heheard the thunderous crashing roar that met her entrance. He did nothear her line.

  He walked forth to the glazed balcony at the front of the house, wherein the entr'actes dandies smoked cigarettes baptised with girlish names.He could see Piccadilly Circus, and he saw Piccadilly Circus throngedwith a multitude of loafers, who were happy in the mere spectacle ofIsabel Joy's name glowing on an electric sign. He went back at last tothe managerial room. Marrier was there, hero-worshipping.

  "Got the figures yet?" he asked.

  Marrier beamed.

  "Two hundred and sixty pounds. As long as it keeps up it means a profitof getting on for two hundred a naight!"

  "But, dash it, man,--the house only holds two hundred and thirty!"

  "But my good sir," said Marrier, "they're paying ten shillings a-pieceto stand up in the dress-circle."

  Edward Henry dropped into a chair at the desk. A telegram was lyingthere, addressed to himself.

  "What's this?" he demanded.

  "Just cam."

  He opened it, and read: "I absolutely forbid this monstrous outrage on awork of art. Trent."

  "Bit late in the day, isn't he?" said Edward Henry, showing the telegramto Marrier.

  "Besides," Marrier observed, "he'll come round when he knows what hisroyalties are."

  "Well," said Edward Henry, "I'm going to bed." And he gave adevastating yawn.