Some ladies in the stalls moved restively, and complained it was too realistic. In the gallery a girl shrieked, and some boys mocked her with their laughter.
Eliphalet Cardomay was sitting on the window-sill, lighting a fresh cigarette.
“Well done, lads,” he cried to his imaginary forces below. “A few more like that, and we——”
Crash!
A great piece of the factory wall fell noisily into the yard, and the released flames poured out toward the gasometer. Eliphalet could feel the sweat breaking out upon his forehead. He almost prayed for that devastating flash which would end the charade. But a gentle wind took the matter in hand and fanned the tongues of flame away.
De—dinga—longa—longalong. De—dong—along—along.
The engines were coming. He had forgotten the possibility of that sound and the message of terror it might convey to the audience. If the truth leaked out there would be a panic. They would find the front of the theatre impassable, and battle with each other in the blocked exits.
So he burst into a great shout of laughter.
“Some idiot is ringing the fire bell!” he shouted. “Ha! the fool. Come, Weldon; don’t you see the joke? Laugh, man; laugh!”
“I can’t make this out,” Raeburn was saying. “Wait here a minute. I am going to see.”