of rabies should have lingered in
the British Isles, and supposing that Carlo had been infected ...!
Not impossible ...! Was it providential that Dr. Stirling was in the
auditorium?
"You know two of them?" said Mr. Dakins.
"Yes."
"Well, the third's a Mr. Bryany. He's manager to Mr. Seven Sachs." Mr.
Dakins' tone was respectful.
"And who's Mr. Seven Sachs?" asked Edward Henry, absently. It was a
stupid question.
He was impressively informed that Mr. Seven Sachs was the arch-famous
American actor-playwright, now nearing the end of a provincial tour,
which had surpassed all records of provincial tours, and that he
would be at the Theatre Royal, Hanbridge, next week. Edward Henry then
remembered that the hoardings had been full of Mr. Seven Sachs for
some time past.
"They keep on making signs to you," said Mr. Dakins, referring to the
occupants of the stage-box.
Edward Henry waved a reply to the box.
"Here! I'll take you there the shortest way," said Mr. Dakins.
II
"Welcome to Stirling's box, Machin!" Robert Brindley greeted
the alderman with an almost imperceptible wink. Edward Henry had
encountered this wink once or twice before; he could not decide
precisely what it meant; it was apt to make him reflective. He did
not dislike Robert Brindley, his habit was not to dislike people; he
admitted Brindley to be a clever architect, though he objected to the
"modern" style of the fronts of his houses and schools. But he did
take exception to the man's attitude towards the Five Towns, of which,
by the way, Brindley was just as much a native as himself. Brindley
seemed to live in the Five Towns like a highly-cultured stranger in a
savage land, and to derive rather too much sardonic amusement from the
spectacle of existence therein. Brindley was a very special crony of
Stirling's, and had influenced Stirling. But Stirling was too clever
to submit unduly to the influence. Besides, Stirling was not a
native; he was only a Scotchman, and Edward Henry considered that what
Stirling thought of the district did not matter. Other details about
Brindley which Edward Henry deprecated were his necktie, which, for
Edward Henry's taste, was too flowing, his scorn of the Pianisto
(despite the man's tremendous interest in music) and his incipient
madness on the subject of books--a madness shared by Stirling.
Brindley and the doctor were for ever chattering about books--and
buying them.
So that, on the whole, Dr.
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