he muttered as soon as he found himself in the street. "A
thousand cats in one! Treated me like mud. Jerusalem! I'll pay her
out. And I'll lose no time about it either. She'll look differently at
me next time we meet."

He hurried back to Cockspur Street and going into the laboratory,
threw himself into a chair and--thought.

That same evening at nine-thirty, in the interval between her first
and second "going on," Gladys hastened to her dressing-room, and was
preparing to partake of the light refreshments she had ordered,
when--to her horror--she perceived crawling towards her, across the
floor, a huge cockroach--a hideous black thing with spidery legs and
long antennae that it waved, to and fro, in the air, as it advanced.
It was at least double the size of any Gladys had hitherto seen, and
her feelings can best be appreciated by those who fear such
things--her blood ran cold, her flesh crawled, she sat glued to her
chair, terrified to move, lest it should run after her. She screamed,
and her dresser, startled out of her senses, came flying into the
room.

"What is it, madam? What is it?" she cried.

Gladys pointed at the floor.

"Kill it!" she shrieked. "Stamp on it! Oh, quick, quick, it is coming
towards me."

But the moment the dresser caught sight of the cockroach, she sprang
on a chair and wound her skirts round her.

"Oh, madam," she panted, "I daren't! I daren't go near it. I'm
frightened out of my life, at beetles. And there's another of
them"--and she pointed to the wainscoting--"and another! Why, the
room's full of them!"

And so it was. Everywhere Gladys looked she saw beetles crawling
towards her--dozens upon dozens, hundreds upon hundreds--and all of
the same monstrous size and ultra-horrible appearance.

"Look!" she screamed. "They are climbing on to my clothes. One's got
into my shoes, and another will be in them, in a second. There's
another--crawling up my cloak--and another on my skirt. Oh! Oh!" and
her cries, and those of the dresser, speedily brought a troop of
actors and actresses to the door. The instant, however, the cause of
the alarm was ascertained, there were loud yells, and a wild stampede
down the passages. The Stage Manager was called, but one glance at the
floor was enough for him--he fled. And in the end three of the supers
had to be fetched. Hot water, brooms, ashes, and quicklime were used,
and although thousands of the cockroaches were killed, thousands more
came, and so