As it opened, smoke blew through, and the smell of burning was
formidable. Jill recoiled involuntarily.

"It's all right," said her companion. "It smells worse than it really
is. And, anyway, this is the quickest way out."

They passed through onto the stage, and found themselves in a world
of noise and confusion compared with which the auditorium which they
had left had been a peaceful place. Smoke was everywhere. A
stage-hand, carrying a bucket, lurched past them, bellowing. From
somewhere out of sight on the other side of the stage there came a
sound of chopping. Jill's companion moved quickly to the switchboard,
groped, found a handle, and turned it. In the narrow space between
the corner of the proscenium and the edge of the asbestos curtain
lights flashed up: and simultaneously there came a sudden diminution
of the noise from the body of the house. The stalls, snatched from
the intimidating spell of the darkness and able to see each other's
faces, discovered that they had been behaving indecorously and
checked their struggling, a little ashamed of themselves. The relief
would be only momentary, but, while it lasted, it postponed panic.

"Go straight across the stage," Jill heard her companion say, "out
along the passage and turn to the right, and you'll be at the
stage-door. I think, as there seems no one else around to do it, I'd
better go out and say a few soothing words to the customers.
Otherwise they'll be biting holes in each other."

He squeezed through the narrow opening in front of the curtain.

"Ladies and gentlemen!"