'Hurry up, guv'nor, or you'll be late!' shouted others; and indeed as Yellow-cap looked up at the clock which was placed in the pediment of the theatre he saw that it marked five minutes to ten.
'Hadn't we better move a little faster?' he said anxiously to Silvia. 'And how are we ever to get through all this crowd?'
'Oh, we have time enough,' she answered very unconcernedly. 'And, since we must go in by the stage-door, the crowd won't hinder us.'
As she spoke they turned down a narrow alley to the left, and soon came to a small entrance in the side of the building. Through this the donkey quietly walked, and up a flight of steps to an inner passageway. Before he knew where he was Yellow-cap found himself on an immense stage, at the further side of which was standing King Ormund himself, surrounded by a group of courtiers. The courtiers were all enveloped in long white dominoes, the sight of which caused Yellow-cap to look behind him with a sudden misgiving. He had supposed until this moment that the six Brethren were following behind him; but he now discovered that, except for Silvia and the half-witted donkey-driver, he was quite alone.
'What has become of them?' he cried in dismay.
'There they are,' said Silvia coolly, pointing to the group of courtiers. 'Where else should they be?'
'They have deserted me, then?'
'Not at all; but as the conspiracy is all on your account it is only fair that you should take all the risks. If the conspiracy were to fail, and they were to have their heads cut off, there could be no conspiracy next year; but if only you are executed your cap would be saved, and there would be no difficulty about finding some one else to wear it.'
'Upon my word,' muttered Yellow-cap to himself rather angrily, 'however this matter goes I am resolved that I will not lose my head before making those six rascals shake in their shoes. Courtiers indeed! We shall see.'
At this moment the curtain drew up and showed the vast audience crowding every part of the theatre. A great clapping of hands and stamping of feet followed, and there were several catcalls and whistlings from the pit and gallery. Almost every member of the audience was provided with a programme headed, 'Grand Annual Pantomime: the Conspiracy,' and containing a list of the performers. Attendants were also moving about hawking librettos of the dialogue. Familiar though Yellow-cap had become with marvels, he could not help wondering how anybody could know what he was going to say. He certainly did not know himself.