"Never you mind, lad!" cried Mr. Jope cheerfully, taking the cutlass from between his teeth and waving it. "You'll get better treatment along o' we."
"What mean you? Unhand me—Off, I say, minion!"
"It'll blow over, lad; it'll blow over. You take my advice and come quiet—Oh, but we want you!—an' if you hear another word about this evening's work I'll forfeit my mess."
"Hands off, ruffian! Help, I say, there—Help!"
"Shame! Shame!" cried a dozen voices. But nine-tenths of the audience were already pressing around the doors to escape.
At a nod from Mr. Jope, two seamen ran and cut the cords supporting the drop-scene.
"Heads, there! Heads!"
The great roller fell upon the stage with a resounding bang.
With the thud of it, a hand descended and smote upon the Major's shoulder.
"Come along o' me. You'll give no trouble, anyway."