e let down: the fire-proof curtain
descended slowly, and remained shutting out the vast and gloomy spaces
of the auditorium, also a melancholy gray-haired lady who was the widow
of the author of the melodrama in rehearsal.

Sir Henry appeared with a bald-headed Frenchman, with a red ribbon in
his button-hole, his secretary, carrying a shorthand notebook, and a
stout, thick-set Jew, who waited obsequiously for the great actor to
take further notice of him. Sir Henry talked volubly and laughed
uproariously. He was very happy and he beamed round the stage at his
company. The ladies said,--

'Good-morning, Sir Henry.'

The gentlemen said,--

'Morning.'

Sir Henry gesticulating violently turned away and began in French to
tell a humorous story to which the Frenchman said, '_Oui, oui_,' and
the Jew said, '_Oui, oui_,' while Clara, who could speak French as
fluently as English, understood not a word of it; but this morning she
liked Sir Henry because he was so happy and because he was so full of
vitality.

His business with the Jew and the Frenchman was soon settled fairly to
their satisfaction. They went away, and Sir Henry began to collect his
thoughts. He turned to his secretary and asked,--

'We are rehearsing a play, eh? All these ladies and gentlemen are not
here for nothing, eh? What play?'

'_The Golden Hawk_.'

'Ah! Yes.... I have rehearsed so many plays.... I am thinking of my
big Autumn success.... I can feel it in the air. I can always feel
it. I felt that _Ivanhoe_ was no good, but I was over-persuaded. My
instinct is always right. The business men and the authors are always
wrong....'

He flew into a sudden passion, and roared, 'Who the hell let down the
fire-proof? I hate the thing. Take it away. How can a man rehearse
to a fire-proof curtain? Take it away. Send it to the London County
Council who inflicted it on me. I don't want it.'

The stage-manager shouted to a man in the flies,--

'Fire-proof up.'

'I never let it down,' came a voice.

'Who did then?'

The stage-manager came over to where Clara was standing and pressed a
button. The heavy fire-proof curtain slowly rose to reveal the
author's widow sitting patiently with the dark empty theatre for
background.

Who's that lady?' asked Sir Henry.

'The author's widow,' replied the secretary.

'I was afraid it was his ghost,' said Sir Henry, with his mischievous
chuckle. He went to her and chatted to her for a f