"They've let me in for a bally part," said Thomas, "and you needn't think you're going to get out of it. They've got you down, all right."
"Thomas, I will be frank with you. I am no less a person than the Emperor Bong's Hereditary (it had been in the family for years) Grand Rat-catcher. The real rush, however, comes in the afternoon. My speciality is young ones."
"I'm his executioner."
"And he has a conjuror too. What a staff! Hallo, good morning, Simpson. Are you anything lofty?"
"'Oh, I am the Emperor Bong,'" said Simpson gaily; "'I am beautiful, clever and strong——'"
"Question," said Thomas.
"''Tis my daily delight to carouse and to fight, and at moments I burst into song.'"
I looked at him in amazement.
"Well, just at present," I said, "all I want is a match.... A lucifer, Emp. A pine vesta, Maj. Thanks.... Now tell me—does anybody beside yourself burst into song during the play? Any bursting by Thomas or myself, for instance?"
"Nobody sings at all. My little poem is recitative."