e two occupied were in the lower rows of the parquet,
close under the right-hand stage box; and from where they sat it was
thus possible to look into the wings on the opposite side of the stage.
It was in the little opening between the proscenium and the curtain
that the man in evening dress unexpectedly appeared. His appearance
caught Smith's eye, and he watched curiously to see what was to follow.
In his hand this person held a watch at which he glanced hastily, and
then made two steps to come before the footlights. But just as he was
nearly clear of the scenes, some one out of sight in the wing evidently
summoned him, for he stopped short, and then turned back. After a
brief colloquy, in which the watch was again consulted, he retired, and
a moment later the curtain went up.

It seemed to Smith, watching closely, his curiosity aroused by this
half-seen and wholly uncomprehended episode, that the actors in the
last act were playing under the pressure of an odd excitement, a sort
of suppressed anxiety and haste. It seemed to him they hurried through
their lines, and the messengers to the brides came back with an
electric promptness more to be desired in real life than in the
circumstances of the play.

Finally the whole was done--all except Katherine's final address to the
ladies, and this took but a brief moment. Smith, listening tensely to
sounds from without, turned and spoke to Helen; and as the curtain fell
they started quickly up the aisle. Their seats chanced to be open to
the side aisle of the house, and a moment later Smith was handing his
check to the cloakroom attendant, with a "Hurry up, please"--and a
lubricant to celerity.

The applause was still to be heard in the theater, but after one brief
bow the actors appeared no more, and the house began to empty. By this
time Smith had reclaimed the wraps, and he and Helen, ready for the
open air, moved out through the lobby and onto the sidewalk in front of
the theater.

On the sidewalk there was a curious tone of constrained excitement.
Evidently something much out of the ordinary had happened--or was
happening. People stood in groups, staring northward up Tremont
Street; and almost all the passers-by, as though impelled by a
nameless, inexplicable force that could not be controlled, were
hurrying in the same direction. An ambulance with clattering gong
dashed by. The urgent crowds, pouring out of the big theater, were
pressing Smith and Helen to