By this time poor Fogg was nearly out of his mind. Surrounded by a number of excited creditors behind the curtain, and frightened by an uproarious, turbulent, and noisy audience in front, the unfortunate fellow recognized in his bewildered condition that he would have to go before the curtain and dismiss the public. But what explanation could he offer? His friends were there to witness his humiliation. He wrung his hands in despair, wished he had never been born, and mentally resolved never again to accept the tender of a benefit. Handy watched him intently, and in his heart felt genuine sorrow for the sad predicament in which the poor fellow had placed himself. Touching Smith on the shoulder, he walked back on the stage, his friend following him. "Smith, this is a hard case. It makes me feel sad, and we must manage somehow or other to get the unfortunate devil out of the hole. This is the worst ever. Do as I tell you, but be careful and let no one get on to you. You noticed that small bottle of red ink on the prompt stand. Get it quietly, and let no one see what you are at. Be very careful. We must devise some way of pulling him through. It's a big risk, but I'll take it. That's all. Go now and take your cue from me." Things were growing from bad to worse on the stage, and the commotion and disorder in front of the curtain were increasing. Handy moved down among the excited crowd that surrounded Fogg, and got close to him. Smith, after exchanging a knowing glance with Handy, also edged his way into the group. "Great Heavens! Fogg, my dear fellow!" suddenly exclaimed Handy, seizing him in an alarmed manner, "are you ill? What's the matter?" Then in a hasty whisper he said: "Act now, d----n you! if you never acted before. Go off in a fit, drop and leave the rest to me." "Oh, nothing, nothing!" replied Fogg, with a strange stare. Then looking wildly about him, he uttered a weird scream and fell in a heap on the stage. In an instant Handy was on his knees beside him. So was Smith, and before any one could realize the situation, the bottle of red ink in his hand had dexterously performed its office over the mouth of the prostrate actor. Bending over him, Handy whispered: "Keep still! and act out your fit and I'll pull you through." Then addressing those about him, he said: "Will some one of you gentlemen kindly fetch a glass of ice water and a little brandy? This is a bad case, I'm afraid. A serious affair. Send for a carriage. He must be removed to his house at once and a doctor called in. Poor fellow, the strain was too much for him. Ah, and by the way, will one of the gentlemen be good enough to go out in front of the curtain and explain to the audience the sad mishap which has befallen our esteemed friend? Please break it mildly in the announcement. The chances are it won't prove fatal, but I'm no doctor, so my say don't go for much. Poor old chap!"