Joe came. He led the way to the switchboard and began a spiel about its intricacies. Neville looked on, understanding it only in the high spots, for the board was a jumble of gadgets and doodads, and it was not long before he began to suspect that the long-winded explanation was a unique variety of double-talk.
"See?" finished the man, "it's as simple as that. Clever, eh?"
"Yes, indeed. Thanks."
Neville started back to the stage, but the announcer barred his way.
"The exit is right behind you, sir," he said in a chilly voice. The words and intonation were polite, but the voice had that iron-hand-in-velvet-glove quality used by tough bouncers in night clubs when handling obstreperous members of the idle rich. They were accompanied as well by a glance so uncanny and so charged with malignancy that Neville was hard put to keep on looking him in the eye and murmur another "Thank you."
But before Neville reached the exit, Colonel Frawley came through.
"Oh, hello. Where is Carstairs?"
Neville shook his head.
"A moment ago he was talking with his impersonator," offered the announcer, seeming to lose all interest in Neville's departure. "I'll see if he is still here. He may have gone into the actor's dressing room."
But as he spoke a dressing room door opened and Carstairs came out of it, smiling contentedly. He turned and called back to the actor inside: