“I’d like to stay a whole hour looking it over,” said Randy, “but it’s getting dusk. Come, we’ll get to the hotel and tell Mr. Strapp what we think of it.”
“I wonder what that Slavin crowd think of our doings?” remarked Pep, curiously. “Of course they know what we’re up to.”
“Yes,” replied Randy, “I heard Frank say there was no doubt of that. They’ve found no way to bother us, though, so far. Frank says they’ve got their hands full with their own affairs.”
“How do you mean?” asked Pep.
“About fixing up their place. They’ve had a fight with the city building department about fire regulations, exits and all that. Then they’ve discovered what Frank, our clever Frank, saw the first thing—that the place was too broad and shallow to make a roomy auditorium. They’ve got to make it still more shallow if they have any kind of a decent front.”
“Say, talking about exits, no trouble here; eh, Randy?”
“I should say not. There couldn’t be a safer playhouse,” was the reply.
It had already pleased Frank and the others to have the city inspector compliment them on the splendid arrangements for the safety of the audience. On two sides there were vacant spaces. At the rear there was a roofed-over building only one story high. A part of this structure was used for storage purposes. The rest of it was a day garage. This accommodated the automobiles of persons who did business in the vicinity.
The Standard had doors all around two sides which would slide back by the mere turning of a lever, which opened as many as twenty immediate avenues to the outer air at one time. In case of fire the audience could disperse through the garage space or the side courts, and the house could be emptied in less than two minutes.
The upper part of the doors had a small sash set in. Several of these near the rear were now open. The workmen had adjusted them thus to carry out the close air, pungent with turpentine, and dry with paint.