Unfortunately this same showman was an extremely sour looking person and presented a most remarkable appearance. He had a brown bowler hat and trousers, green waistcoat, and black expression, which ‘tout ensemble’ constrained St. Ronots to cheer--though not very lustily--at the wrong moment, thereby greatly enraging the human kaleidoscope, who signalled to Woodbine to remove the Hereditary Legislator from the House. That individual advanced with some circumspection and requested St. Ronots peremptorily to ‘go outside quietly,’ but our friend who had really done nothing wrong, not unnaturally declined to comply with his request, and so the Manager was compelled to fall back upon his oleaginous smile and the Proctor. That gentleman came across to the Hereditary Legislator and exchanged a word or two with him and then appeared to metaphorically put Woodbine through the mangle, for he departed sadly to the Temperance Bar for another cigarette while the Proctor went quietly home. For the remaining hour or so, we really watched the performance, which was rather diverting, and leaving in a body at about eleven o’clock, finished the evening in our rooms. On Monday morning, in response to urgent notices from the Junior Proctor, a large party assembled at the leprous hour of nine in his rooms at James’. We noticed, as we entered the ante-room, the Assistant Manager of the Suburban Palace of Varieties clad in the usual check cycling-suit and bowler hat, besides several promising looking criminals who were obviously witnesses in various cases coming up for investigation. After exchanging greetings with Squiff and Accrington, Reggie and I selected the two most comfortable chairs and sat down to wait, while the party were passed in one by one to the torture-chamber. More and more people continued to arrive, including Bob Parclane, arrayed in the inevitable eye-glass and check-coat, who was conducting a party accused of throwing bottles out of a window at an elderly citizen. There were also two gentlemen of our acquaintance, who had been so indiscreet as to empty the contents of a syphon upon some wayfarer’s head below their windows in Unity.