_Author._ I don't know that I should care for it to come out at the Lyceum, but of course if the terms were very--oh, they're beginning at last! I hope this light comedy scene will go well. (_Curtain rises: Comic dialogue--nothing whatever to do with the plot--between a Footman and a Matinée Maidservant in short sleeves, a lace tucker, and a diamond necklace; depression of audience. Serious characters enter and tell one another long and irrelevant stories, all about nothing. When the auditor remarks,_ "Your story is indeed a sad one--but go on," _a shudder goes through the house, which becomes a groan ten minutes later when the listener says:_ "You have told me _your_ history--now hear _mine_!" _He tells it; it proves, if possible, duller and more irrelevant than the other man's. A love-scene follows, characterised by all the sparkle and brilliancy of "Temperance Champagne"; the House witnesses the fall of the Curtain with apathy._) _Author._ That love-scene was perfectly _ruined_ by the acting! She _ought_ to have turned her head aside when he said, "Dash the teapot!" but she never _did_, and he left out _all_ that about dreaming of her when he was ill with measles in Mashonaland! I wish they wouldn't have such long waits, though. We timed the piece at rehearsal, and, with the cuts I made, it only played about four hours; but I'm afraid it will take longer than that to-day. _Comp._ I don't care _how_ long it is--it's so _beautifully_ written! _Author._ Well, I put my whole _soul_ into it, you know; but it's not till this next Act that I show my full power. [_Curtain rises on a drawing-room, furnished with dingy wrecks from the property-room--the home of_ JASPER, the Villain, _who is about to give an evening party. Enter a hooded crone._ "Sir JASPER, I have a secret of importance, which can only be revealed to your private ear!" (_Shivers of apprehension amongst the audience._) _Sir J._ "Certainly, go into yonder apartment, and await me there." (_Sigh of relief from spectators_.) _A Footman._ "Sir, the guests wait!" _Sir J._ (_with lordly ease_). "Bid them enter!" (_They troop in unannounced and sit down against the wall, entertaining one another in dumb-show._) _Footman_ (_re-entering_). "Sir, a roughly-dressed stranger, who says he knew you in Norway, under an _alias_, requests a few words." _Sir J._ "Confusion!--one of my former accomplices in crime--my guests must not be present at this interview!" (_To Guests._) "Ladies and Gentlemen, will you step into the adjoining room for a few minutes, and examine my collection of war-weapons?" (_Guests retire, with amiable anticipations of enjoyment. The Stranger enters, and tells another long story._) "I smile still," he concludes--"but even a _dead_ man's skull will smile. Allow me then the privileges of death!" (_At this an irreverent Pittite suddenly guffaws, and the Audience from that moment perceives that the piece possesses a humorous side. The Stranger goes; the Guests return.