While the bombardment was in progress the Colonel and a faithful orderly had the stage to themselves. The courageous soldier spent his time between an open cigarette-box and an open window, from which latter vantage he was able to control the movements of his troops, and supply the audience with details of the attack. Eliphalet Cardomay had been at great pains to make the sounds of the battle convincing. He had bought large drums and employed extra hands to beat the stage with canes. As a final _tour de force_ half a dozen squibs were let off, a single maroon was exploded in an iron bucket, and red fire was burnt with liberality in an adjacent frying-pan. It was a stirring entertainment. Eliphalet felt he was upholding the best traditions of the race and drama. During the second week of the tour his satisfaction received a shock. He was staying at an hotel, the rooms in that particular town being indifferent and unclean, and had returned thither after the performance to sip a cup of cocoa and smoke a small cigar before retiring to rest. He had found a secluded palm-sheltered recess in the lounge, and, at the time the shock occurred, was reflecting that he had, perhaps, allowed himself too free an expression of criticism when discussing with the theatre manager the matter of exits from the auditorium. His own production was a heavy one, and to give it stage room the manager had moved a quantity of stock scenery and stored it in the two emergency corridors which, in case of necessity, would empty the theatre into a narrow thoroughfare at the back. Eliphalet did not approve of this measure and had quoted the Lord Chamberlain’s rules in support. Mr. Gimball, the manager, had replied, with singular lack of courtesy, that he was quite capable of running the front of the house without interference. To this Eliphalet answered, “Your first duty to your patrons is to provide them with a speedy means of leaving the auditorium.” And Mr. Gimball returned: “I can get them out all right if you can get them in.” An uncalled-for observation, the memory of which rankled. Eliphalet did not aspire to be a master of repartee, and had not engaged in the discussion with a view to sharpening his wits. It seemed obvious every precaution should be taken, especially in the case of a theatre situated next-door to a small-arms and cartridge-making factory and abutting the local gas-works. Thus it is not unnatural that, in the shade of the hotel palms, he should have sought for more quieting influences. He was sipping the cocoa, when he chanced to overhear the following conversation: “I shan’t forgive you for this, Bryan, when we might have spent a pleasant evening at a music-hall.” “Sorry,” said an older voice, “but after all it wasn’t such a bad show. Certainly the battle scene was a bit indifferent—still, one can’t expect everything.”