some length, on the interior decorations of the Hall, and an excursus
on music-hall performances in general. It is not till he comes to
examine the audience that Mr. Kennedy returns to the main issue.

"And what manner of audience was it that had gathered together to view
the entertainment provided by the genial and courteous manager of the
Lobelia? The audience. Beyond whom there is no appeal. The Caesars of
the music-hall. The audience."

At this point the author has a few extremely interesting and thoughtful
remarks on the subject of audiences. These may be omitted. "In the
stalls I noted a solid body of Russian officers. These soldiers from
the Steppes. These bearded men. These Russians. They sat silent and
watchful. They applauded little. The programme left them cold. The
Trick Cyclist. The Dashing Soubrette and Idol of Belgravia. The
Argumentative College Chums. The Swell Comedian. The Man with the
Performing Canaries. None of these could rouse them. They were waiting.
Waiting. Waiting tensely. Every muscle taut. Husbanding their strength.
Waiting. For what?

"A man at my side told a friend that a fellow had told him that he had
been told by a commissionaire that the pit and gallery were full of
Russians. Russians. Russians everywhere. Why? Were they genuine patrons
of the Halls? Or were they there from some ulterior motive? There was
an air of suspense. We were all waiting. Waiting. For what?

"The atmosphere is summed up in a word. One word. Sinister. The
atmosphere was sinister.

"AA! A stir in the crowded house. The ruffling of the face of the sea