Then for a time he let the play absorb him. The witches were tempting Macbeth, flattering his ambition, promising him power. The gloom and the flickering light round the cauldron recalled Africa; Marston had seen the naked factory boys crouch beside their fires, tapping little drums, and singing strange, monotonous songs that sounded like incantations. He thought about Rupert Wyndham; witches were numerous in Africa and Marston wondered what they had promised him. Was it power? Or knowledge the cautious white man shuns? Marston glanced at Wyndham, in front. He had not spoken since the curtain rose and the pose of his head indicated that his eyes were fixed on the stage. He was very still and Marston thought the drama had seized his imagination. The cauldron fire leaped up, throwing red reflections that touched a figure moving in the gloom. Marston wondered whether his eyes were dazzled, for the hooded figure began to look like the Bat. Then there was a flash, the witches vanished, and he felt a strange relief when the curtain fell and the lights went up. "Very well done! A realistic scene!" Wyndham remarked, looking round. "Did you know it was _Macbeth_, Bob?" "I did not," said Marston. "If I had known, I think I'd have picked another night." Wyndham looked hard at him, and then laughed and began to talk to Flora, but Marston felt jarred. Harry laughed like that in moments of tension when others swore. Then he saw that Mabel was studying him. "You are quiet, Bob," she said. "It's long since I saw a good play," Marston replied. "My first relaxation since I got to work, and I expect it grips me harder because it's fresh. Full house, isn't it? Do you know many people?" "I see one or two friends of yours. They have been looking at you, but you wouldn't turn." "I didn't see them," said Marston. "I've got the habit of dropping people since I joined Wyndhams'. Regular work is something of a novelty and while the newness lasts you get absorbed. I don't know if it's good or not. What do you think?" Mabel laughed. "Well done, Bob! It cost you something, but you felt you ought to talk." "It oughtn't to have cost me anything," said Marston apologetically. "But how did you know?" "My dear, you're honest and obvious. Besides, we do know things, by instinct perhaps. I would always know when you were disturbed." "I'm not disturbed. You are here." "Ah," said Mabel, "now you're very nice! But let's be frank. You were thinking about another drama, in real life, that touches you close. I see one comfort; there's no Lady Macbeth in the piece."