“As usual, nobody said anything to me, but I knew what was up one morning when Holroyd appeared with a fellow who was obviously an acrobat and Sir John talked with him. I hung around, officiously helping Macgregor, and heard what was said, or enough of it. The acrobat seemed to be very set on something he wanted, and it wasn’t long before he was on his way, and Sir John was in an exceedingly bad temper. All through the rehearsal he bullied everybody. He bullied Miss Adele Chesterton, the pretty girl who played the second romantic interest; she was new to the stage and a natural focus for temper. He bullied old Frank Moore, who played Polichinelle, and was a very old hand and an extraordinarily nice person. He was crusty with Holroyd and chivvied Macgregor. He didn’t shout or swear, but he was impatient and exacting, and his annoyance was so thick it cut down the visibility in the room to about half, like dark smoke. When the time came to rehearse Two, two, he said he would leave it out for that day, and he brought the rehearsal to an early close. Holroyd asked me to wait after the others had gone, but not to hang around. So I kept out of the way near the door while Sir John, Holroyd, and Milady held a summit conference at the farther end of the room.

“I couldn’t hear much of what they said, but it was about me, and it was hottish. Holroyd kept saying things like, ‘You won’t get a real pro to agree to leaving his name off the bills,’ and ‘It’s not as easy to get a fair resemblance as you might suppose—not under the conditions.’ Milady had a real stage voice, and when she spoke her lowest it was still as clear as a bell at my end of the room, and her talk was all variations on ‘Give the poor fellow chance, Jack—everybody must have at least one chance.’ But of Sir John I could hear nothing. He had a stage voice, too, and knew how far it could be heard, so when he was being confidential he mumbled on purpose and threw in a lot of Eh and Quonk, which seemed to convey meaning to people who knew him.

“After ten minutes Milady said, so loudly that there could be no pretence that I was not to hear, ‘Trust me, Jack. He’s lucky for us. He has a lucky face. I’m never wrong. And if I can’t get him right, we’ll say no more about it.’ Then she swept down the room to me, using the umbrella, with more style than you’d think possible, as a walking-stick, and said, ‘Come with me, my dear boy; we must have a very intimate talk.’ Then something struck her, and she turned to the two men; ‘I haven’t a penny,’ she said, and from the way both Sir John and Holroyd jumped forward to press pound notes on her you could tell they were both devoted to her. That made me feel warmly toward them, even though they had been talking about sacking me a minute before.