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Updated: May 6, 2025
Her hand twitched more convulsively under Susan's as she thought of, waited for, the sound. The locust scene was a triumph for Crayford, Mr. Mulworth, and Jimber. The scene which succeeded it was a triumph for Alston Lake. Whatever else this night might bring forth one thing was certain; Alston had "made good." He had "won out" and justified Crayford's belief in him.
Mulworth crossed, with a thick-set, lantern-jawed, and very bald man, who was probably Jimber. Claude followed two or three yards behind them, and disappeared. His face looked ghastly under the stream of amber light. "It's dreadful to see people on the stage not made up!" said Charmian. "They all look so corpse-like. O Alston, are we going to have a success?" "What! You beginning to doubt!"
"The locusts are all in one corner!" shouted Crayford. "What's the use of that? They must spread." "Spread your locusts!" bawled Mr. Mulworth. He lifted both his arms in a semaphore movement, which he continued until it seemed as if his physical mechanism had escaped from the control of his brain. "Spread your locusts, Jimber!" he wailed. "Spread! Spread! I tell you spread your locusts!"
But" his kind and honest eyes went from Charmian to Claude "I think, if you don't mind, I'll smoke on the way home. I'll go right away now if you won't think it unfriendly. The fact is I'm a bit tired, and I bet you both are, too. These things take it out of one, unless one is made of cast-iron like Crayford, or steel like Mulworth, or whipcord like Jimber.
"Mister Mulworth! How long will Claude take making the cuts, do you think?" "He'll have to stick at them all through the next act. If they're not made the act's a fizzle! Jeremy! See here! We've got to have a pin-light on Miss Mardon when she comes down that staircase!" He escaped. "Signor Meroni, I hear you have to make some cuts! D'you think " "Signora ma si! Ma si!" He escaped.
It had gone well, unexpectedly well. Behind the scenes there were congratulations. Crayford was radiant. Mr. Mulworth wiped his brow fanatically, but looked almost human as he spoke in a hoarse remnant of voice to a master carpenter. Enid Mardon went off the stage with the massive dressmaker in almost amicable conversation.
Crayford met them in the doorway of his large and elaborately furnished sanctum. "Come right in! There's a lot to talk about. Shut the door, Harry. Now, Mulworth, let's get to business. What is it that is wrong with the music to go with the Fakir scene?" At six o'clock the rehearsal had not begun. At six-thirty it had not begun.
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