"Sorry, sir," said the man apologetically. "Afraid I splashed you. I suppose we go right through and up. Come along, Razor," he yelled to the last of his bandsmen, a thin, weedy youth, who was still vainly endeavouring to cut his way through the crowd.
Suddenly the little man saw the first drummer banging away vigorously.
"'Ullo, got another little lot inside! You don't 'alf know 'ow to advertise, mister," he said admiringly.
This reminded Mr. Hearty that he possessed a voice.
"There is some mistake. I have not ordered any band," he shouted in the little man's ear.
"Wot?" shouted the little man.
Mr. Hearty repeated his assurance.
"Not ordered any band. Seem to 'ave ordered all the bands in London, as far as I can see," he remarked, looking at the rival concerns. "Sort of Crystal Palace affair. You ordered us, any'ow," he added.
"But I didn't," persisted Mr. Hearty. "This is all a mistake."
"Oh, ring orf!" said the leader. "People don't pay in advance for what they don't want. Come along, boys," he cried and, pushing his way along the shop, he passed through the parlour door and was heard thumping upstairs.