Then the two men were silent for a long time, until they reached Porter Street. Here Jephson said: "It is as well you should be prepared for a great change in Lavirotte. You will hardly know him. I never saw such a change come over a man in a few hours. At the theatre he went through what he did of the part with the greatest dash and go. He never sang better; he never acted better at any rehearsal. The whole thing was going capitally. We were in the highest spirits. The audience were enthusiastic. Everyone was called after the first act. If Lavirotte had only got through that heavy scene in the second act, I do not believe he would have broken down. But it was too much for him. When he came back to consciousness he behaved like a lunatic. When he was told that the audience had to be dismissed he tore his hair, and swore and stamped like a man possessed. He would not go to any place but that hideous old tower of his. He would not let anyone go with him but me, not even the doctor, who said he was in an exceedingly dangerous condition. "When we got to the tower, he had to rest twenty times in getting to the horrible place where he sleeps. And when at last we reached the loft, he fainted again; and when he came quickly back to consciousness he would not let me put him to bed, but threw himself in his stage dress on the couch, and seemed to concentrate all his attention on listening. He was very quiet now, but still I think his reason is gone, for although there was not a sound, he kept leaning up on his elbow now and then, asking me: 'Did you hear the boy's voice? Did you hear him call?' "He meant, you see, the call-boy's voice. I tried to soothe him, and told him that we were no longer at the theatre, and not to worry himself with thinking of the call-boy's voice. At this he smiled, but said nothing. He did this five or six times. Then, when after a long time he asked me to go for you, I reminded him that you were in great trouble, that your house was on fire, and that the last we knew of you was what he himself told us, of the possible loss or danger of your boy. "Then again he asked me: 'Did you hear the boy call?' And I said: 'No. You will not hear the boy call again to-night.' At this he not only smiled, but laughed, and said: 'You will go for Eugene at once. He will not think me mad. He is my dearest friend.'" "My poor, poor Dominique!" cried Eugene. "He was godfather to my little boy that's gone." "I was afraid to leave him alone, but there was something in his manner I could not resist. This is the tower. I have taken the key with me. There is a lantern alight inside. Get in. Mind yourself there. Wait till I lock the door on the inside. Let me go first. There. Can you see the rungs? Stop, you will never be able to get up the ladder in that overcoat. Take it off, and put it down on those boards." "But I, too, have my stage dress on."