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Updated: May 31, 2025
"You may say it!" agreed Mr. Bryany, who spoke with a very slight American accent. "Dakins positively hadn't a seat to offer me. I happened to have the evening free. It isn't often I do have a free evening. And so I thought I'd pop in here. But if Dakins hadn't introduced me to these gentlemen my seat would have had to be a standing one."
Long's Muzzling Order, as cited by his infant son, an odd case 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.
Not only he turned but nearly everyone in the vicinity turned. The voice was the voice of the stout and splendid managing director of the Empire, and it sounded with the ring of authority above the rising tinkle of the bar behind the Grand Circle. "Oh! How d'ye do, Mr. Dakins?"
Edward Henry held out a cordial hand, for even the greatest men are pleased to be greeted in a place of entertainment by the managing director thereof. Further, his identity was now recognized. "Haven't you seen those gentlemen in that box beckoning to you?" said Mr. Dakins, proudly deprecating complimentary remarks on the show. "Which box?" Mr. Dakins' hand indicated a stage-box.
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. "Welcome to Stirling's box, Machin!"
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