Triumphant! The Russian National Anthem. A paean of joy.

"The menials reappear. Those calm, passionless menials. They remove the
number fifteen. They insert the number sixteen. They are like Destiny--
Pitiless, Unmoved, Purposeful, Silent. Those menials.

"A crash from the orchestra. Turn number sixteen has begun...."




Chapter 8

THE MEETING AT THE SCOTCH STORES


Prince Otto of Saxe-Pfennig stood in the wings, shaking in every limb.
German oaths of indescribable vigour poured from his lips. In a group
some feet away stood six muscular, short-sleeved stage-hands. It was
they who had flung themselves on the general at the fall of the iron
curtain and prevented him dashing round to attack the stalls with his
sabre. At a sign from the stage-manager they were ready to do it again.

The stage-manager was endeavouring to administer balm.

"Bless you, your Highness," he was saying, "it's nothing. It's what
happens to everyone some time. Ask any of the top-notch pros. Ask 'em
whether they never got the bird when they were starting. Why, even now
some of the biggest stars can't go to some towns because they always
cop it there. Bless you, it----"