‘I left Hannah with Edith, Hal, and the sooner we join them the better. I have my cab at the door, so come at once, like a good fellow,’ said Arthur Hindes, who was beginning to feel seriously uneasy about his brother.
He persuaded him to accompany him back to town, however, and in another half-hour they had all sat down to dinner. Captain Hindes marked the anxious look in his sister-in-law’s eye, as he related how he had found his brother; but Henry picked up considerably during dinner, and even attempted some feeble attempts towards jocularity, which were accompanied, however, by such a silly, cackling laugh, that his wife’s cheeks burned with shame to listen to him, and Arthur tried by all means in his power to cover his shortcomings by talking a great deal more nonsense than was his wont.
‘I am sorry,’ he said, as they started for the theatre, ‘that I was unable to procure a box at the Lyceum. Everything was booked there for three weeks in advance, but I got seats at another theatre, which I daresay will prove just as amusing.’
‘I shall like anything, naturally,’ replied Edith; ‘but you, Hannah, see so many pieces, I suppose, that you may be fastidious.’
‘Indeed, you are mistaken,’ said Hannah, with her quiet smile. ‘Henry does not care, as a rule, to go out after dinner, and I cannot, of course, go without him. An evening at the theatre is almost as great a treat to me as to you, Edith.’
The theatre which Captain Hindes had selected was one of those which provide melodrama for the public amusement. There happened to be a very stirring piece on there at that moment, full of sensational scenes of murder, assault, and robbery. The murder was committed in the prologue, and the story dragged through three long acts afterwards, during which the assassin was being hunted down until he was finally brought to justice.
As soon as Hannah understood what they were likely to see, she became anxious and troubled on her husband’s account, although she took great pains to conceal her feelings. The two ladies were seated in front of the box, whilst the gentlemen occupied the spaces behind their chairs. She could not, therefore, see her husband’s face, but she sympathised with him all through the play. She fancied that the conversation between the brothers grew less and less as the piece proceeded, but that might be due to the fact that they had become interested in it. Her worst fears were, however, realised, when, as they were watching a scene in which the murderer betrayed himself to a woman, who had been on his track from the beginning, she suddenly heard Henry exclaim,—
‘This is an insult! I will stand it no longer. I consider you had no right to bring my wife to see such a piece as this.’
Captain Hindes started to his feet at once, the two ladies looked round in amazement, and Hannah said, in an agonised whisper,—
‘Hush, Henry, hush, for Heaven’s sake! You will attract public notice. I am enjoying the play immensely. Do sit down and be quiet.’