"Alloyd, the architect," Edward Henry answered, and then calling loud, "Come up here, Alloyd."
The muffled and coated figure approached, hesitated, and then joined the other two in the cage.
"Let me introduce Mr. Alloyd, the architect—Sir John Pilgrim," said Edward Henry.
"Ah!" said Sir John, bending towards Alloyd. "Are you the genius who draws those amusing little lines and scrawls on transparent paper, Mr. Alloyd? Tell me, are they really necessary for a building, or do you only do them for your own fun? Quite between ourselves, you know! I've often wondered."
Said Mr. Alloyd, with a pale smile:
"Of course everyone looks on the architect as a joke!" The pause was somewhat difficult.
"You promised us rockets, Mr. Machin," said Sir John. "My mind yearns for rockets."
"Right you are!" Edward Henry complied. Close by, but somewhat above them, was the crane-engine, manned by an engineer whom Edward Henry was paying for overtime. A signal was given, and the cage containing the proprietor and the architect of the theatre and Sir John Pilgrim bounded most startlingly up into the air. Simultaneously it began to revolve rapidly on its cable, as such cages will, whether filled with bricks or with celebrities.
"Oh!" ejaculated Sir John, terror-struck, clinging hard to the side of the cage.
"Oh!" ejaculated Mr. Alloyd, also clinging hard.