--or, in the alternative, at _matinees_, a full view
of a lady's hat."

"Alderman," said Sir John, gravely, "before I offer you another egg,
let me warn you against carrying remarkableness too far. You may be
regarded as eccentric if you go on like that. Some people, I am told,
don't want a view of the stage."

"Then they had better not come to my theatre," said Edward Henry.

"All which," commented Sir John, "gives me no clue whatever to the
reason why you are sitting here by my side and calmly eating my eggs
and toast, and drinking my coffee."

Admittedly, Edward Henry was nervous. Admittedly, he was a provincial
in the presence of one of the most illustrious personages in the
Empire. Nevertheless, he controlled his nervousness, and reflected:

"Nobody else from the Five Towns would or could have done what I am
doing. Moreover, this chap is a mountebank. In the Five Towns they
would kow-tow to him, but they would laugh at him. They would mighty
soon add _him_ up. Why should I be nervous? I'm as good as he is." He
finished with the thought which has inspired many a timid man with new
courage in a desperate crisis: "The fellow can't eat me."

Then he said aloud:

"I want to ask you a question, Sir John."

"One?"

"One. Are you the head of the theatrical profession, or is Sir Gerald
Pompey?"

"_Sir_ Gerald Pompey?"

"_Sir_ Gerald Pompey. Haven't you seen the papers this morning?"

Sir John Pilgrim turned pale. Springing up, he seized the topmost of
an undisturbed pile of daily papers, and feverishly opened it.

"Bah!" he muttered.

He was continually thus imitating his own behaviour on the stage. The
origin of his renowned breakfasts lay in the fact that he had once
played the part of a millionaire-ambassador who juggled at breakfast
with his own affairs and the affairs of the world. The stage-breakfast
of a millionaire-ambassador created by a playwright on the verge of
bankruptcy had appealed to his imagination and influenced all the
mornings of his life.

"They've done it just to irritate me as I'm starting off on my world's
tour," he muttered, coursing round the table. Then he stopped and
gazed at Edward Henry. "This is a political knighthood," said he. "It
has nothing to do with the stage. It is not like my knighthood, is
it?"

"Certainly not," Edward Henry agreed. "But you know how people will
talk, Sir John. People will be going about this very morning
and saying that Sir Gerald is at last the