* *

The rain was coming down in sheets, and, in spite of the mackintosh
which he was wearing above his livery, drops were beginning to make
their unpleasant way down Anthony's neck. His feet had been wet for
hours. The violence of the language employed by the press of grooms
and footmen huddled about him at the doors of the Opera House suggested
that their plight was no less evil.

It was a big night, and of "the distinguished audience" Mr. and Mrs.
Slumper were making two. They were inexpressibly bored, but that was
beside the point. By occupying two stalls, Mrs. Slumper was sure they
were doing the right thing. A box would have been better, of course,
but there had been some difficulty, and Slumper, being a weak-kneed
fool, had been bluffed into taking the stalls. Mrs. Slumper would like
to see the clerk who could bluff her. By dint of concentrating upon
her grievance, she had worked herself into a passion by the end of the
second act....

It continued to rain copiously.

At last flunkeys appeared and set the inner swing-doors wide open. A
blasphemous murmur of relief went up from the company of servants.

"Bet yer my gint's fust," squeaked a little bow-legged Cockney. "'E's
a fair winner, 'e is." A pompous prelate appeared in the lobby,
walking with an air of having just consecrated the building free of
charge, and followed by a nervous-lipped lady and a deacon who looked
like a startled owl. "There y'are! Wot 'd I s'y?" he added, turning
to scuttle off to his car.

"Ser long, 'Arry!" cried somebody. "See yer at Giro's."

There was an explosion of mirth.

The rain, the discomfort, the waiting--three familiar malefactors--all
in a moment discomfited by a sudden guffaw, reminded Lyveden vividly of
his service in France. His thoughts ramped back to the old days, when
there was work and to spare--work of a kind. Of course, the
competition was not so keen....

People were coming fast now, and the entrances to the lobby were
getting choked. Attendants were bellowing big names, innumerable
engines were running, the police were shouting orders, gears were being
changed.

"Number a nundred and one!" thundered a voice.

"Right!" cried Anthony, elbowing his way out of the crush.

He made his way quickly to where he had left the car.

The information that his employers were awaiting his services was
received by the chauffeur with a volley of invective, which dealt more
particularly with Mrs