"Correct," replied the stage manager. He then proceeded to take a survey of the front of the house through the peep-hole in the drop curtain. The house was filling up nicely, but, as Handy subsequently remarked, the audience had a peculiar look that did not recommend itself to the veteran's practiced eye. "How it is?" inquired someone at Handy's elbow. On his turning about he found it was his old friend Smith, of the _Gem of the Ocean_. "Hello, old pal! Well, I don't know how to size it up. There's a fair crowd, and if it is all money it's a good house. But it doesn't look to me like a money house. The people in the audience appear to be too well acquainted. They act as if they came to a picnic." "Can you blame them?" replied Smith, who had a very low estimate of amateur actors. "I guess I'll ring in the spielers. Time's up." Suiting the action to the word, he pressed the button. A few seconds later and a German professor with blond hair of a musical cut approached the prompt stand. "Ees dot Meister Vogue somewheres about here, I don't know?" he inquired. "In his dressing-room," curtly answered Handy. "Ees dot so? Veil, then, I am Professor Funkenstein, und mein men der money want before dot overture." "You're in a large-sized hurry, ain't you?" replied the stage manager. "Can't you hold on until the show is over? What's the matter with you? Don't you see the house we have?" "Mein freund, dot's all right. But mein men der money wants. Don't dink I'm a fool because I'm a German man. I my money wants, too." "Mr. Handy, why don't you ring in the orchestra?" spoke Fogg, who had just come from his dressing-room made-up for _Claude Melnotte_. Catching sight of the leader, he exclaimed: "What's the matter, Professor?" "The matter is, Meister Vogue, mein men der money wants before they goes out. Dot's vot's der matter!" For a moment Fogg gazed at the orchestra leader in surprise, and then indignantly declared: "This is simply outrageous! What do you take me for, sir?" Then turning to his stage manager: "Mr. Handy, have you got a slip of paper, in order that I may give this man an order on the box office? How much is your bill? Ah, yes, I remember--seventy-five dollars. Here, take this and go and get your money at the box office," as he handed the order to the professor, who instantly made a hasty retreat through the nearest exit leading into the front of the house, Fogg disappearing at the same time in the direction of his dressing-room, to add the finishing touches to his make-up. By this time it was nearly twenty minutes past eight o'clock, and the audience had already begun to manifest indications of impatience. "Handy," whispered Smith, "I'm glad I came. If I am not greatly mistaken there will be a lively time here to-night. Mark what I'm telling you."