“And how much? Give me the detailed account to-night, at the station. I’ll study it on my way to Berlin.” And, turning to the workmen, “Faites vite! Dépêchez!”
They were the only words of French he knew, a vocabulary no more extensive than Lily’s, but of a different kind.
“And the lights?” asked Harrasford, before he went down again.
“Here, there,” said Jimmy, “on steel rods, connected by electric wires.”
“That’ll dish the Berlin Winter Garden, with its stars set in black velvet,” said Harrasford.
And he followed Jimmy toward the stage wall, which stood out above the roof of the auditorium. Here some other workmen were cutting a doorway.
“Let’s go and see the floor now.”
And Harrasford plunged through the door, followed by Jimmy. They crossed the fly-galleries and
made for the blocked staircases. Before they went down, Jimmy called his attention to a pulley which was being fixed to the ceiling and which was to carry a rope with a stirrup for the performer’s foot, to enable him to reach the stage in a few seconds, after doing the trick.
“Very good,” said Harrasford.