"Going to dance," Bill commented. "He sure looks soused."
The man was swaying about as he moved. Kars' searching gaze missed nothing. The couple began to dance. And for all the man's unsteadiness it was clear he was a good, if reckless, dancer. The sober gait of the other dancers, however, seemed unsuited to his taste, and he began to sweep through the crowd with long racing strides which his woman could scarcely keep pace with.
Kars stood up.
"He'll get thrown out," said Bill. "Pap won't stand for that play. He'll tear up the floor with his nailed boots."
The man had swept round the hall, and he and his partner were lost under the balcony beneath the box in which the "onlookers" were sitting.
In a moment a cry came up from beneath them in a woman's voice. Another second and a chorus of men's angry voices almost drowned the music. The men in the orchestra were craning, and broad smiles lit some of their faces. Other dancers had come to a halt. They, too, were gazing with varying expressions of inquiry and curiosity, but none with any display of alarm.
"He's boosted into some one," said Bill.
A babel of voices came up from below. They were deep with fierce protest. The trouble was gaining in seriousness. Kars leaned out of the box. He could see nothing of what was going on. He abruptly drew back, and turned to his companion.
"Say——"
But his words remained unuttered. He was interrupted by a violent shout from below.