Thousands flocked
to see him, but despite the fact that he said "I will! I will!" with
the greatest emphasis, the unkind waves would not support him. Indeed,
since they swallowed him, it might almost be said that the Rev. S----
supported the waves. For two whole days there was regular stampedes of experimenters to
Hyde Park and Regent's Park, and the banks of their respective waters
resounded with the words, "I will walk! I will walk!" succeeded by
splashes and cries for help. Nor was the water feat the only one that induced imitators. Crowds
flocked to the Zoological Gardens, and the various houses were
literally packed with people trying to get into conversation with the
animals; these attempts being also marked by a large proportion of
fatal results. One old gentleman--a Fellow of the Royal
Society--carried away in his enthusiasm to talk with a tiger, after
making what he thought to be the correct signs, slipped his nose
through the bars of the tiger's cage, and had it promptly bitten
off--whilst a girl, in her endeavours to sniff the crocodiles, and so
get in conversation with them, fell in their midst, and was torn to
pieces before help arrived. However, these fatalities only served as an advertisement to the firm,
and hundreds of people, for whom there was not even standing room,
were turned away from the house nightly. But later on there were hitches. Curtis, whose dislike to vegetarian
diet steadily increased, when dining one evening at his club, could no
longer withstand the sight of roast beef. The smell of it tickled his
palate unmercifully. "Take this infernal mess away!" he said, pushing a plate of nut steak
from him in disgust, "and let me have a full course--entrée, soup,
fish, meat, everything you've got--chartreuse and a liqueur, and bring
it quick--I'm famished." He ate and ate, and drank and drank, until it was as much as he could
do to rise from the table. And then, in excellent spirits, he repaired
to Cockspur Street. How he got on to the stage he could never tell. Everything was in a
haze around him, until there was a dull crash in his ears, and he
suddenly found himself drowning. No one, at first, noticed his
helpless condition, but attributed his antics to part of the
programme; and he most certainly would have been drowned, had it not
been for Lilian Rosenberg, who, being quite by chance, in front of the
house, perceived he was drunk, the moment he came on the stage. She
flew to the wings, and, just in the nick of time, got two of the
supers to haul him out of the tank. Of course, it was announced--with
a pretty apology--by Mr. Hamar, that Mr. Curtis had been taken ill.
Kelson immediately came on with his animals, and the audience departed
without the slightest suspicion as to the truth. Hamar was furious. "You idiot!" he said to Curtis, "that all comes of your making a beast
of yourself--you would sacrifice Matt and me, for your insatiable
craving for meat and alcohol. Can't you see it was a trick of the
Unknown to make us break the compact? Had you been drowned, the
partnership, would, of course, have been dissolved--and it would have
been your fault! You must obey your injunctions! Damn it, you must!" And Hamar spoke so fiercely that Curtis was for once in a way cowed,
and solemnly promised that he would not repeat the offence. Kelson was the next culprit; and his misdoings were indirectly
associated with the foregoing incident. Lilian Rosenberg's action in
saving Curtis's life, thrilled him to the core, and called into play
all his ardent passion. He had seen her sitting in the front of the
house, and had come upon the scene just as she was urging the supers
to go to Curtis's assistance; and he then thought she had never looked
so lovely. "Come out with me to-morrow afternoon," he whispered. "Hamar's going
out of town!" And before she could stop him he had kissed her. Kelson hardly expected Lilian Rosenberg would accept his invitation,
but on arriving at the place he had named, he was delighted beyond
measure to find her there. Nor could anyone have been nicer to him. No girl, he told himself, who
did not in some degree at least, reciprocate his sentiments, could
have allowed him to stare into her eyes as she did, or squeeze her
hands, as he did. He took her to the ladies' drawing-room of his club,
where there were plenty of quiet, secluded nooks, and there, whilst
she poured out tea for him, he once more related to her all his early
deeds and ailments--real and imaginary--and all his ideals and
aspirations. Lilian Rosenberg was most sympathetic. "You should have been a poet," she said. "There is something about you
that is quite Byronic." And Kelson, who had never even heard of Byron, was immensely
flattered. "Will you come to the jeweller's with me," he said, "and choose
whatever you like best. Those fingers of yours are made for
rings--rings of all sorts!" and he gave them a gentle pressure. She let him escort her to Bond Street, and followed him gaily into
Raymond's; but when it came to accepting a ring from him, she
laughingly refused, and chose, instead, the most expensive diamond
bracelets and pendants in the shop. Some of these she wore--the
rest--unknown to him of course--she sold; sending the proceeds,
anonymously, to Shiel Davenport--who was starving. When Kelson went on the stage, that evening, his thoughts were so far
away--planning for his honeymoon--that he entered the cage of a newly
imported lion without having made the necessary signs, and would most
certainly have been mangled out of recognition, had not one of the
supers, perceiving how matters lay, rushed to his assistance, and kept
the lion at bay with a pole, till further help could be procured. It
had been a narrow squeak, and to Kelson the bare idea of continuing
his performance was appalling. His nerves were, as he himself put it,
anyhow, and he preferred retiring for the rest of the evening. But Hamar would not hear of it. "This is the second bungle we have had," he said, "and the reputation
of the firm is seriously at stake. You must go on again and retrieve
it." And Kelson, trembling all over, was obliged to reappear. After it was all over, and he had bowed himself out into the wings,
Hamar led him aside. "Don't look so damned pleased with yourself," he said, "I don't half
like the look of things. This is the third time the Unknown has tried
to trap us--the fourth time it may be successful! Take care!" CHAPTER XX

THE STAGE OF HAUNTINGS


Much to the relief of the trio, the end of stage three was at length
reached--and, thanks to Hamar, reached without further mishap. To keep
Curtis and Kelson up to the mark, Hamar had worked indefatigably. He
had never relaxed his efforts in the strict watch he kept over them,
and he had unceasingly impressed upon them, the vital importance of
obeying, to the very letter, the instructions they had received from
the Unknown.