He believed he had not been observed by the person he was following, and he took care not to let the man suspect that there was a tracker behind him.
The man led Frank straight to one of the lowest music halls in the great city.
Frank did not hesitate to enter the place, and he paid the small admission price.
The hall was packed with men, but not a woman was to be seen, save on the stage, where a girl in short dresses was singing in a high-pitched key, accompanied by a miserable orchestra.
The men had brought bottles of bitter ale with them. Some had brought fried soles, wrapped in paper.
They were eating the soles, and drinking from the bottles.
The seats were long benches without arms. From the ends of these benches spectators were frequently shoved into the aisles, causing no end of amusement.
The men who were thus pushed from their seats seldom or never took offense; but they arose and pounded in the face and ribs of the ones who had taken their places, which they generally recovered.
To Frank’s astonishment, several of these impromptu battles were taking place when he entered. In America the parties thus engaged would have been promptly ejected, or there must have ensued a general riot in a very short time.
But the singer on the stage did not seem to mind it, the orchestra continued to inflict its torture, and the show went on as if nothing of consequence was happening, which was true.