“I'll pitch the lot of you over the bloody rail,” he said.
He glared at them, from under his bald, wrinkled forehead. Josephine glanced round. She had become a dusky white colour. She was afraid of him, and she disliked him intensely nowadays.
“Do you recognise anyone in the orchestra?” she asked.
The party in the box had become dead silent. They looked down. The conductor was at his stand. The music began. They all remained silent and motionless during the next scene, each thinking his own thoughts. Jim was uncomfortable. He wanted to make good. He sat with his elbows on his knees, grinning slightly, looking down. At the next interval he stood up suddenly.
“It IS the chap—What?” he exclaimed excitedly, looking round at his friends.
“Who?” said Tanny.
“It IS he?” said Josephine quietly, meeting Jim's eye.
“Sure!” he barked.
He was leaning forward over the ledge, rattling a programme in his hand, as if trying to attract attention. Then he made signals.
“There you are!” he exclaimed triumphantly. “That's the chap.”