“I know,” said Mr. Dobb. “I ’appened to look in later on.”
“What for?”
“To make certain,” replied Mr. Dobb. “You see, between you and me, it’s no secret that business is rotten at the theayter, is it? And it certainly was rotten last night—not half it wasn’t, was it?”
“Been like that all the week,” gloomily said Mr. Bellaby.
“Well, that could be haltered,” observed Mr. Dobb sagely. “I got a idea. Do us both good, it will.”
“What’s the scheme?”
“Lose ’er jewels,” whispered Mr. Dobb, mysteriously.
Mr. Bellaby, with a superior smile, stigmatized the suggestion as both stale and threadbare. To this Mr. Dobb replied that, elaborated according to the notion he had in mind, the artifice would none the less prove successful.
“Mind you, it’s quite time we did something,” frankly conceded Mr. Bellaby. “Talk about frosts! She was saying to me only yesterday that if things didn’t improve— Of course for my own sake, I’d like things to improve, but what can one do? We’d all like to hit on something good. But as for losing her jewels, my dear old boy—oh, my dear old boy!”
“Never mind if they did start the idea in the year dot,” retorted Mr. Dobb. “The Shore’aven public ain’t too used to the idea to sit up and take notice, anyway. She’s got plenty of jew’l’ry to lose, ain’t she? For myself, I never ’eard anyone rattle quite so much on the stage as she do. Of course, we knows it ain’t real, but—”