The lift stopped, and they got out. "If we had it would probably have been a wrong one," said Claude. "The only real verdict is the one the great public gives." "Yes, of course. But, still--" "Hulloh, little lady! So you're sticking to the ship till she's safe in port!" Crayford met them in the doorway of his large and elaborately furnished sanctum. "Come right in! There's a lot to talk about. Shut the door, Harry. Now, Mulworth, let's get to business. What is it that is wrong with the music to go with the Fakir scene?" At six o'clock the rehearsal had not begun. At six-thirty it had not begun. The orchestra was there, sunk out of sight and filling the dimness with the sounds of tuning. But the great curtain was down. And from behind it came shouting voices, noises of steps, loud and persistent hammerings. A very few people were scattered about in the huge space which contained the stalls, some nondescript men, whispering to each other, or yawning and staring vaguely; and five or six women who looked more alert and vivacious. There was no one visible in the shrouded boxes. The lights were kept very low. The sound of hammering continued and became louder. A sort of deadness and strange weariness seemed to brood in the air, as if the great monster were in a sinister and heavy mood, full of an almost malign lethargy. The orchestral players ceased from tuning their instruments, and talked together in their sunken habitation. Seven o'clock struck in the clocks of New York. Just as the chimes died away, Mrs. Shiffney drew up at the stage-door in a smart white motor-car. She was accompanied by a very tall and big man, with a robust air of self-confidence, and a face that was clean-shaven and definitely American. "I don't suppose they've begun yet," she said, as she got out and walked slowly across the pavement, warmly wrapped up in a marvellous black sable coat. "Have you got your card, Jonson?" "Here!" said the big man in a big voice. The dark young man came from his office. On seeing the big man he started, and looked impressed. "Mr. Crayford here?" said the big man. "I think he's on the stage." "Could you be good enough to send him in my card? There's some writing on the back. And here's a note from this lady." "Certainly, with pleasure," said the young man, with his cheerful smile. "Come right into the office, if you will!" "Hulloh!" said Crayford, a moment later to Claude. "Here's Mrs. Shiffney wants to be let in to the rehearsal! And whom with, d'you think?" "Whom?" asked Claude quickly. "Not Madame Sennier?" "Jonson Ramer." "The financier?" "Our biggest! My boy, you're booming! Old Jonson Ramer asking to come in to our rehearsal! We'll have that all over the States to-morrow morning. Where's Cane?" "I'll fetch him, sir!" said a thin boy standing by. "Are you going to let them in?"