St. Peter is the sign of Rome, the city of the
dogma; St. Paul that of London, the city of schism.

Ursus, whose philosophy had arms so long that it embraced everything,
was a man who appreciated these shades of difference, and his attraction
towards London arose, perhaps, from a certain taste of his for St. Paul.

The yard of the Tadcaster Inn had taken the fancy of Ursus. It might
have been ordered for the Green Box. It was a theatre ready-made. It was
square, with three sides built round, and a wall forming the fourth.
Against this wall was placed the Green Box, which they were able to draw
into the yard, owing to the height of the gate. A large wooden balcony,
roofed over, and supported on posts, on which the rooms of the first
story opened, ran round the three fronts of the interior facade of the
house, making two right angles. The windows of the ground floor made
boxes, the pavement of the court the pit, and the balcony the gallery.
The Green Box, reared against the wall, was thus in front of a theatre.
It was very like the Globe, where they played "Othello," "King Lear,"
and "The Tempest."

In a corner behind the Green Box was a stable.

Ursus had made his arrangements with the tavern keeper, Master Nicless,
who, owing to his respect for the law, would not admit the wolf without
charging him extra.

The placard, "Gwynplaine, the Laughing Man," taken from its nail in the
Green Box, was hung up close to the sign of the inn. The sitting-room of
the tavern had, as we have seen, an inside door which opened into the
court. By the side of the door was constructed off-hand, by means of an
empty barrel, a box for the money-taker, who was sometimes Fibi and
sometimes Vinos. This was managed much as at present. Pay and pass in.
Under the placard announcing the Laughing Man was a piece of wood,
painted white, hung on two nails, on which was written in charcoal in
large letters the title of Ursus's grand piece, "Chaos Vanquished."

In the centre of the balcony, precisely opposite the Green Box, and in a
compartment having for entrance a window reaching to the ground, there
had been partitioned off a space "for the nobility." It was large enough
to hold, in two rows, ten spectators.

"We are in London," said Ursus. "We must be prepared for the gentry."

He had furnished this box with the best chairs in the inn, and had
placed in the centre a grand arm-chair of yellow Utrecht velvet, with a
cherry-coloured pattern, in