He crept to the front gate and peered forth. The roadway was deserted. Taking his courage in both hands, he stepped out upon the pavement and walked briskly downhill to the theatre. The distance was a matter of five or six hundred yards only, and he met nobody. Coming in sight of the brightly-lit portico, he made a dash for it and up the steps, where he blundered full tilt into the arms of a tall doorkeeper at the gallery entrance. "Hallo!" exclaimed the man, falling back. "Get out of this!" "One moment, my friend--" "Damme!" The doorkeeper, blocking the entrance, surveyed him and whistled. "Hi, Charley!" he called; "come and take a look at this!" A scrag-necked youth thrust his face forward from the aperture of the ticket-office. "Well, I'm jiggered," was his comment. "Drunk, eh? Throw him out!" "If you'll listen for a moment," pleaded the Major, with dignity, and began to search in the pockets of his sodden breeches. "I wish a message taken . . . but dear me, now I remember, I left my money upstairs!" "_On_ the gilded dressing-table beside the diamond tiyara," suggested the doorkeeper. "Or maybe you cast it down, careless, on the moonlit shore afore taking your dip!" "My good man, I assure you that I am the victim of an accident. It so happens that, by a singular chain of mischance, I have not at this moment a penny about me. But if you will go to the reserved row of the pit and fetch out my friend Mr. Basket--" At this point the Major felt a hand clapped on his shoulder, and turning, was aware of two sailors, belted and wearing cutlasses, who, having lurched up the steps arm-in-arm, stood to gaze, surveying him with a frank interest. "What's wrong, eh?" demanded the one who had saluted him, and turned to his comrade, a sallow-faced man with a Newgate fringe of a beard. "Good Lord, Bill, what is it like?" "It _looks_ like a wreck ashore," answered the sallow-faced sailor after a slow inspection. "Talk about bein' fond of the theayter! He must have _swum_ for it," said the other, and stared at the Major round-eyed. "You'll excuse me; Ben Jope, my name is, bos'n of the _Vesuvius_ bomb; and this here's my friend Bill Adams, bos'n's mate. _As_ I was sayin', you'll excuse me, but you must be fond of it--a man of your age--by the little you make of appearances." "I was just explaining," stammered the Major, "that although, most unfortunately, I have left my purse at home--" But here he paused as Mr. Jope looked at Mr. Adams, and Mr. Adams answered with a slow and thoughtful wink. "Go where you will," said Mr. Jope cheerfully, stepping to the ticket-office; "go where you will, and sail the high seas over, 'tis wonderful how you run across that excuse. Three tickets for the gallery, please; and you, Bill, fall alongside!" He linked an arm in the Major's, who feebly resisted. "Lord love ye!" said Mr. Jope, "the lie's an old one; but a man that played up to it better in appearances I never see'd nor smelt!"