That was what I had myself been wondering.
CHAPTER IV
[MR. MONTAGU BABBACOMBE AWAKES]
Something of the crowd which Mr. Augustus FitzHoward foretold did assemble. It was half-past nine when I entered that part of the building in which Mr. Montagu Babbacombe was on exhibition, and already it was quite sufficiently filled. Mr. FitzHoward stood at the receipt of custom, wearing an air of triumph, and what seemed the same dirty pair of cuffs. He beamed at me as I tendered my ticket.
'All right?' I asked.
'All perfectly right, sir. In half an hour from now Mr. Montagu Babbacombe will come back from the land of the dead to the land of the living, after a thirty days' sojourn among the shadows. It may be that he will be the bearer of important news from Shadowland. Walk in, ladies and gentlemen, while there still is time.'
The major part of his remarks was addressed to folks in general. I wanted him to say something on a subject which was of interest only to myself.
'I suppose it can be arranged for me to speak to Mr. Babbacombe after the close of his entertainment.'
'Entertainment, sir! I would have you know that this is not an entertainment; a mere commonplace show. It's a modern miracle; the miracle of the age--as those who witness it will with one voice proclaim. Admission, half-a-crown!' This was said at the top of his voice. A postscript was uttered in milder tones. 'I can't make any promise. I expect it'll be pretty lively after ten, and perhaps Mr. Babbacombe mayn't feel up to much. But if you'll keep yourself handy, if I can manage an introduction I will. The rest you must manage yourself.'
'Very good. You understand that I must see him alone.'