But his fears were groundless.
The only occupant of the café when the curtain rose was a waiter of melancholy aspect. To him entered a lady and gentleman in evening dress, arm-in-arm,—the gentleman carrying an umbrella and smoking an unlighted cigar,—who intimated in pantomime that they required an abundant and satisfying meal. The waiter responded by stepping forward and bowing so low that he fell right over on to the back of his neck, coming up again to a standing position after one complete revolution. With a deeply injured expression he went down upon his hands and knees and began to search for the obstacle over which he had tripped. Presently he found it. It was so minute as to be quite invisible to the audience, but when thrown into the wings it fell with a reverberating crash.
Any further doubts as to the nature of the entertainment were now dissipated by the gentleman in evening dress, who, instead of hanging up his opera hat in the orthodox fashion, gave his head a backward jerk which sent the hat flying backwards on to an adjacent gas-bracket. He next removed his evening coat, and having lighted his cigar from a candle upon the table, proceeded to give a juggling exhibition with the candle, the cigar, and his umbrella.
At this his lady friend withdrew, possibly in search of a less eccentric host. The waiter, instead of serving supper, remained a fascinated spectator of the gentleman's performance. Presently, fired with a spirit of emulation, he took a plate and a raw egg from the table,—with the exception of a property chicken the egg was the only edible thing in the restaurant,—and having thrown the egg into the air endeavoured to catch it upon the plate. He succeeded. While he was wiping his face, the lady made an unexpected reappearance. She had left her opera cloak and evening gown in the cloak-room, and was now attired in what looked like a bathing-suit of tight pink silk. Evidently having abandoned all hope of supper, she had good-naturedly decided to come and lend a hand with the juggling exhibition. She incited her companion to further enterprises. At her instigation he took the table by one leg and balanced it upon his forehead,—fortunately the chicken appeared to be clamped to the dish and the dish to the table,—keeping three plates in the air with one hand and a fourth spinning horizontally upon the ferrule of his umbrella with the other.
The waiter, discouraged and fatigued by his want of success with the egg, here opened an ingenious little door in his own stomach, revealing a small cupboard; and taking out a bottle and glass, proceeded to refresh himself in the usual manner. Then, catching the eye of the lady, who was regarding this somewhat unusual arrangement of nature with pardonable astonishment, he hastily returned the bottle and glass to their place and shut the little door. But feminine curiosity is not easily allayed. As soon as her companion had completed this performance with the table, the lady drew his attention to the phenomenon which she had just witnessed. The gentleman promptly stepped behind the shrinking waiter, and holding him firmly by the elbows, invited the lady by a nod to investigate the mystery for herself. This she did. But the opening of the door only revealed a tiny venetian blind, drawn down and bearing the legend, BAR CLOSED.
"I wonder how they think of such things!" said Sylvia rapturously.
"They do that to give the juggler a rest," explained the undeceived Mr. Rayner.
After this the band played louder and faster, and the gentleman took all the furniture within reach and proceeded to hurl it into the air, keeping it there with incredible ease through the whole of a frenzied rendering of "Il Bacio." His lady friend, quite carried away by her enthusiasm, skipped about the stage clapping her hands and uttering shrill whoops. The waiter, roused to a final effort, rushed off into the wings, to reappear with a perfect mountain of plates. These he hurled hysterically heavenward. They descended in all directions, splintering into fragments amid appreciative yells from the audience. Having caught exactly one plate out of the avalanche, the waiter displayed it to the house with great pride; and then (evidently afraid of spoiling the ship for want of a ha'porth of tar) produced a small coal-hammer from his pocket and smashed it to atoms. The performances concluded with a general mêlée, in which the gentleman and lady combined to bombard the waiter with all the plates they could lay their hands on. But he caught them, every one of them, two at a time; and then, once more unlocking the door in his waistcoat and pulling up the venetian blind, was seen generously offering liquid refreshment to his discomfited assailants as the curtain fell.
By this time the majority of Sylvia's party were enjoying themselves thoroughly. Sylvia herself was bubbling over; Julius Mablethorpe was shouting like a child, and his wife, weak with laughter, was wiping her eyes. Mr. Derek Rayner was in the seventh heaven, for his young hostess had devoted her entire attention to him and had hardly given her other companion so much as a look.
"Perhaps the chap is just a family friend, after all," he said to himself optimistically.