The female cormorant was administering some light stimulant, for Georgina is subject to fits of nervousness, incredible as this may appear. The emaciated one was in front assisting in looking after the money-taker; and I feel thankful to Providence on his account, if not on my own, that this was far from an arduous task, for the poor fellow was evidently delicate and physically incapable of lifting a heavy cash-box, and so, with all my faults, blood-guiltiness cannot be laid to my charge. Time meanwhile was rapidly passing, and a huge clock pointed to three minutes to eight, then two minutes, then one, and then eight o’clock struck, and, oh horror of horrors! the _sole_ occupant of the enormous building was the critic of the local paper. Decency forbade our opening the concert to this solitary unhappy man; it appeared to me to be cowardly to attack him alone, and to pit him single-handed against the invincible Georgina, who had demolished a conductor and his manager a week previously, and who now showed symptoms of “annoyance” that nothing but my soothing powers prevented bursting into a flame. My plan of action was immediately taken; to hesitate a moment was to be lost. I at once sent for the “secretary,” and first thought of telling him to make a short speech from the stage to our solitary audience; but reflection decided me in approaching him myself. I apologised for the unusual occurrence (it had in reality happened wherever we had been, though not to the extent of less than seven or eight); I offered to return him his money, for I was well aware his was a complimentary ticket, and verily believe that the united purses of the entire company could not have scraped together five shillings. He muttered something I tried not to hear, and next day repaid my intended courtesy by a flaming smashing article that would effectually have ruined us had we moved elsewhere. But events were occurring at the same time which put it out of my power to continue this disastrous tour. About eleven o’clock the landlord of the hotel presented himself at my room, said the lady and her friends had left, and politely but firmly intimated that he could not permit me to remove my luggage till a little bill of £8 was settled. The rest is soon told. I hurried back to London, remitted the £8, and abandoned the tour. I had not, however, heard the last of my musical _bête noire_; she and the “secretary” both dunned me for their railway fares, which I of course ignored, and I heard no more of her till she dug me out at the House of Detention, when she threatened me with legal proceedings for detaining, as she alleged, her photographs—the real fact being that, after our last stampede, her photographs that were displayed were seized by some indignant creditor in expectation of a ransom. For my part I hope I have really heard the last of this irrepressible creature. CHAPTER VI. BOW STREET.