Down in the orchestra, standing well away from the centre, so that he could see the stream of lime-light, the manager said: “Electrics!” “Yes, sir.” “Cut off every light.” “Right, sir.” With a clicking sound the lights went out; and all was black--but for that golden pathway still flowing down the darkness. For a moment the manager blinked silently at the strange effulgence. Then his scared voice rose: “Send for the Boss--look alive! Where’s Limes?” Close to his elbow a dark little quick-eyed man, with his air of professional stupidity, answered in doubt: “Here, sir.” “It’s up to you, Limes!” The little man, wiping his forehead, gazed at the stream of golden light, powdering out to silver at its edges. “I’ve took out me limes, and I’m disconnected, and this blanky ray goes on. What am I to do? There’s nothing up there to cause it. Go an’ see for yourself, sir!” Then, passing his hand across his mouth, he blurted out: “It’s got to do with that there voice--I shouldn’t be surprised. Unnat’ral-like; the voice o’----” The manager interrupted sharply: “Don’t be a d--d ass, Limes!” And, suddenly, all saw the proprietor passing from the prompt side behind that faint mist where the ray fell. “What’s the theatre dark like this for? Why is it empty? What’s happened?” The manager answered. “We’re trying to find out, sir; a madman in the gallery, whom we couldn’t locate, made a disturbance, called the new turn ‘A natural’; and now there’s some hanky with this lime. It’s been taken out, and yet it goes on like that!” “What cleared the house?” The manager pointed at the stage. “It looked like smoke,” he said. “That light’s loose; we can’t get hold of its end anywhere.” From behind him Signor Bensoni suddenly pushed up his dim, scared face. “Boss!” he stammered: “it’s the most bizarre--the most bizarre--thing I ever struck--Limes thinks----” “Yes?” The Boss turned and spoke very quickly: “What does he think--yes?” “He thinks--the voice wasn’t from the gallery--but higher; he thinks--he thinks--it was the voice of--voice of----” A sudden sparkle lit up the Boss’s eyes. “Yes?” he hissed out; “yes?” “He thinks it was the voice of---- Hullo!” The stream of light had vanished. All was darkness. Some one called: “Up with your lights!” As the lights leaped forth, all about the house, the Boss was seen to rush to the centre of the stage, where the ray had been. “Bizarre! By gum!... Hullo! Up there!” No sound, no ray of light, answered that passionately eager shout. The Boss spun round: “Electrics! You blazing ass! Ten to one but you’ve cut my connection, turning up the lights like that. The voice of----! Great snakes! What a turn! What a turn! I’d have given it a thou’ a week!... _Hullo! up there! Hullo!_” But there came no answer from under the gilt-starred dome. A SIMPLE TALE