p with Whitaker, and left them....

Whitaker, following almost immediately to the gangway, found that Ember
had already left the theatre.

For some minutes he wandered to and fro in the gangway, pausing now and
again on the borders of the deserted stage. There were but few of the
house staff visible, and those few were methodically busy with
preparations to close up. Beyond the dismal gutter of the footlights the
auditorium yawned cavernous and shadowy, peopled only by low rows of
chairs ghostly in their dust-cloths. The street entrances were already
closed, locked and dark. On the stage a single cluster-stand of electric
bulbs made visible the vast, gloomy dome of the flies and the
whitewashed walls against which sections of scenery were stacked like
cards. An electrician in his street clothes lounged beside the
door-keeper's cubicle, at the stage entrance, smoking a cigarette and
conferring with the doorman while subjecting Whitaker to a curious and
antagonistic stare. The muffled rumble of their voices were the only
sounds audible, aside from an occasional racket of boot-heels in the
gangways as one actor after another left his dressing-room and hastened
to the street, keen-set for the clash of gossiping tongues in theatrical
clubs and restaurants.

Gradually the building grew more and more empty and silent, until at
length Whitaker was left alone with the shadows and the two employees.
These last betrayed signs of impatience. He himself felt a little
sympathy for their temper. Women certainly did take an unconscionable
time to dress!...

At length he heard them hurrying along the lower gangway, and turned to
join his wife at the stage-entrance. Elise passed on, burdened with two
heavy hand-bags, and disappeared into the rain-washed alleyway. The
electrician detached his shoulders from the wall, ground his cigarette
under heel and lounged over to the switchboard.

Mary Whitaker turned her face, shadowy and mystical, touched with her
faint and inscrutable smile, up to her husband's.

"Wait," she begged in a whisper. "I want to see"--her breath
checked--"the end of it all."

They heard hissings and clickings at the switchboard. The gangway lights
vanished in a breath. The single cluster-stand on the stage
disappeared--and the house disappeared utterly with its extinguishment.
There remained alight only the single dull bulb in the doorman's
cubicle.

Whitaker slipped an arm round his wife. She trembled within