It was a frightful scene of turmoil, though up till now a good-natured one. The actor who had last left the stage (or rather who was left upon it, for he had been killed in combat) had had, by some mismanagement, the curtain dropped upon his legs, and had jumped up and rubbed them before the audience in a manner very unbecoming a corpse. At this they screamed with laughter, to which his Highness the Duke of Clarence, in the royal box, contributed his full share. Their good humour was, therefore, for the present, assured, though such mirth was hardly conducive to the success of a tragedy. But at the commencement of the next act there were signs of ill-nature. There were cries set agoing from a box on the upper tier, of ‘Forgery! forgery!’ and even of ‘Thief Erin! Thief Erin! look at Thief Erin!’ Kemble’s magnificent voice alone could make itself heard above these sounds of displeasure. He was apostrophising the King of Terrors:— Oh sovereign Death, Who hast for thy domain this world immense. Churchyards and charnelhouses are thy haunts, And hospitals thy sumptuous palaces; And when thou wouldst be merry thou dost choose The gaudy chamber of a dying king. And then thou dost ope wide thy monstrous jaws, And with rude laughter and fantastic tricks Thou clapp’st thy rattling fingers to thy side; And when this solemn mockery is o’er—— Here he was suffered to proceed no further; that unfortunate line, uttered in the most sepulchral tone, was the signal for the most discordant howl that was ever heard within the walls of a theatre. He repeated the line with his own peculiar emphasis, and even, as a spectator tells us, ‘with a solemn grimace.’ It was the death-blow of the piece. A scene of confusion ensued which beggars description. Suddenly, and as the newspapers of the day said, ‘without any premonition,’ a rush was made for the box occupied by the Erins. Fortunately, however, one man at least had premonition of it. He was the one who has been mentioned as occupying a box by himself. He had been silent all the evening, taking no part either with the partisans or the opponents of the play, but with eyes ever attentive to what was going on. The voice of the young fellow in the next compartment had attracted him above all others; it had malevolence in it which was wanting in the other cases, and, though he did not recognise it, sounded not unfamiliar to him. It had been the first to raise the cry of ‘Forger!’ and the only one which had mentioned the name of Erin. As he repeated the words for the third or fourth time, some drunken fellow hiccuped ‘Where are they?’ To which the malevolent voice replied, ‘I’ll show you. The young scoundrel is hiding behind the curtain, but we’ll have him out.’ [Illustration: THE NEXT MOMENT THE CORRIDOR WAS FULL OF AN EXCITED RABBLE.]