He did not find it very entertaining, but a certain innocent curiosity about most things made it hard for him to feel bored; indeed, as he watched and listened to the rather feeble acting, and singing, a slow dreamy contentment came over him, focused slightly by the anticipation of seeing his ex-patient again. At any rate, with the alternative of nothing else to do, he did not regret the whim that had brought him to such a place. He enjoyed awareness of the massed humanity around him and of the snaky sea underneath — a hint of peril in such an assembly. And he was amused by a young man with an attractive smile who came jauntily forward and sang a song with words something like: —

“Poor old England isn’t in the picture,

Everything is foreign, you’ll agree,

The table and the chairs,

The carpet on the stairs, Were made in Ger-man-ee!

But when you go out into the garden,

Nestling in a little plot,

There’s the sweetest English rose

That in the summer grows,

And that’s the only bit of English that we’ve got!”

A piquant prelude to the appearance of a whirlwind dancer from St. Petersburg who spoke German. But, to his surprise, she didn’t appear, and her item on the programme was omitted without explanation; till suddenly, from the unison with which a particular chorus was sung, he realized that the show was over and the audience beginning to get up and move away. After a pause he rose with them and sauntered towards the exit, puzzled, but hardly troubling much. When, however, he passed a man in Pierrot costume who was about to enter the pay booth, he asked what had happened to the girl dancer. The question ignited something.

“Happened to her? You can well ask that!”

“Why, what’s the matter?”

Just then another Pierrot rushed up and said something in the ear of the first one, whose response was to throw up his arms with a gesture of despair. “My God — she would! And now what do we do? A doctor — where the devil can we find a doctor?”

“I am a doctor,” said David quietly.

“You?”

“Yes.”

“No kidding?”

“My name is —”

“Oh, never mind — for heaven’s sake go round and see what’s up. Take him along, Jim.”

Jim led the way through the rows of empty deck chairs, now awaiting their second audience, behind a wooden screen, and eventually to the back of the stage. It was part of David’s experience to be guided by devious routes to strange places, there to take charge of emergencies that occasioned him no real surprise. Only the mildest curiosity inspired him to ask his question again — what had happened to the girl? Was she ill? “It’s only luck if she isn’t dead.”

“Oh?”

“Shut herself in and turned on the gas, mister. What d’you say to that?”

But all David could say to that was a rather surprised: “Gas on the end of a pier?”