"You can go on directly she's finished murdering this one," I promised him. "I don't think they'll stand any more."
He nodded, and I turned back towards where the other aspirant was standing in the shadow of the wings.
"Now what can I do for you, sir?" I asked. "I don't think you need to change, do you?"
There was no immediate reply. Suddenly I felt a little shiver, and I had hard work to keep back the exclamation from my lips. I knew now that Rose had been right. It was a very wonderful disguise, but our master had at last appeared. He drew a little nearer to me. Even then, although I knew that it was Richard Thomson, I could see nothing but the Jew shopkeeper.
"I shall pretend to make some slight change behind that screen," he said in a low tone. "Come back here when you've taken him on the stage. I may want you."
He disappeared behind a screen a few feet away, and I stood there like a dazed man. From the stage I could still hear the lusty contralto of the young lady candidate. I heard her finish her song amidst moderate applause, chiefly contributed by a little group of her supporters. There was a brief pause. The young lady obliged with an encore. Then the door of the men's dressing room opened, was closed and locked. The young man, looking a little haggard but remarkably handsome, came towards me, clenching the key in his hand.
"I was a fool to take this on," he confided nervously. "You are sure my things will be all right in there?"
I pointed to the key in his hand.
"You have every assurance of it," I told him.
He fidgeted about, listening with obvious suffering to the girl's raucous voice.