THE performance continued on the stage. Foo Chow made his appearance, garbed in a mandarin costume. He was a tall, well-built Chinaman, whose very appearance excited the approval of the audience.
His work was more interesting than that of the other actors; but, to Cleve Branch, it grew monotonous, and he was pleased when Foo Chow’s part had ended.
Joseph Darley seemed to share Cleve’s restlessness. He spoke to his companions in a low voice.
“Would you like to meet this celebrated actor?” he questioned.
His friends replied in the affirmative. Darley stated that he could arrange it.
“Foo Chow’s part is ended now,” he explained. “I met him once before. I’ll go back stage and arrange an interview with him. You can expect me back shortly.”
He left his seat, gained the aisle, and followed the wall until he reached the curtains that led to the downstairs boxes.
Cleve watched Darley go, and saw him disappear behind the curtains. Then Cleve studied the stage indifferently, and settled himself back in his seat. This evening was a wasted one, he decided.
The performance was nearly ended when Darley returned. He motioned from the end of the row, and they arose and joined him at the side aisle.
“Come on back,” he said. “This way — through the entrance by the boxes.”