IN the First Act there
had been a farm scene, wherein real horses had drunk real water out of real
buckets, afterward dragging a real waggon off stage, L. The audience was
consumed with admiration of this play, and the great Theatre Nouveau rang to
its roof with the crowd's plaudits.
The Second Act was now
well advanced. The hero, cruelly victimised by his enemies, stood in prison
garb, panting with rage, while two brutal warders fastened real handcuffs on
his wrists and real anklets on his ankles. And the hovering villain sneered.
"'Tis well, Aubrey
Pettingill," said the prisoner. "You have so far succeeded; but, mark
you, there will come a time--"
The villain retorted
with a cutting allusion to the young lady whom the hero loved.
"Curse you,"
cried the hero, and he made as if to spring upon this demon; but, as the
pitying audience saw, he could only take steps four inches long.
Drowning the mocking
laughter of the villain came cries from both the audience and the people back
of the wings. "Fire! Fire! Fire!" Throughout the great house
resounded the roaring crashes of a throng of human beings moving in terror, and
even above this noise could be heard the screams of women more shrill than
whistles. The building hummed and shook; it was like a glade which holds some
bellowing cataract of the mountains. Most of the people who were killed on the
stairs still clutched their play-bills in their hands as if they had resolved
to save them at all costs.
The Theatre Nouveau
fronted upon a street which was not of the first importance, especially at
night, when it only aroused when the people came to the theatre and aroused
again when they came out to go home. On the night of the fire, at the time of
the scene between the enchained hero and his tormentor, the thoroughfare echoed
with only the scraping shovels of some street-cleaners, who were loading carts
with blackened snow and mud. The gleam of lights made the shadowed pavement
deeply blue, save where lay some yellow plum-like reflection.
Suddenly a policeman
came running frantically along the street. He charged upon the fire-box on a
corner. Its red light touched with flame each of his brass buttons and the
municipal shield. He pressed a lever. He had been standing in the entrance of
the theatre chatting to the lonely man in the box-office. To send an alarm was
a matter of seconds.
Out of the theatre
poured the first hundreds of fortunate ones, and some were not altogether
fortunate. Women, their bonnets flying, cried out tender names; men, white as
death, scratched and bleeding, looked wildly from face to face. There were
displays of horrible blind brutality by the strong. Weaker men clutched and
clawed like cats. From the theatre itself came the howl of a gale.
The policeman's fingers
had flashed into instant life and action the most perfect counter-attack to the
fire. He listened for some seconds, and presently he heard the thunder of a
charging engine. She swept around a corner, her three shining enthrilled horses
leaping. Her consort, the hose-cart, roared behind her. There were the loud
clicks of the steel-shod hoofs, hoarse shouts, men running, the flash of
lights, while the crevice-like streets resounded with the charges of other
engines.
At the first cry of
fire, the two brutal warders had dropped the arms of the hero and run off the
stage with the villain. The hero cried after them angrily. "Where you
going? Here, Pete--Tom--you've left me chained up, damn you!"
The body of the theatre
now resembled a mad surf amid rocks, but the hero did not look at it. He was
filled with fury at the stupidity of the two brutal warders, in forgetting that
they were leaving him manacled. Calling loudly, he hobbled off stage, L, taking
steps four inches long.
Behind the scenes he
heard the hum of flames. Smoke, filled with sparks sweeping on spiral courses,
rolled thickly upon him. Suddenly his face turned chalk-colour beneath his skin
of manly bronze for the stage. His voice shrieked. "Pete--Tom--damn
you--come back--you've left me chained up."
He had played in this
theatre for seven years, and he could find his way without light through the
intricate passages which mazed out behind the stage. He knew that it was a long
way to the street door.
The heat was intense.
From time to time masses of flaming wood sung down from above him. He began to
jump. Each jump advanced him about three feet, but the effort soon became
heart-breaking. Once he fell, and it took time to get upon his feet again.
There were stairs to
descend. From the top of this flight he tried to fall feet first. He
precipitated himself in a way that would have broken his hip under common
conditions. But every step seemed covered with glue, and on almost every one he
stuck for a moment. He could not even succeed in falling down stairs. Ultimately
he reached the bottom, windless from the struggle.
There were stairs to
climb. At the foot of the flight he lay for an instant with his mouth close to
the floor trying to breathe. Then he tried to scale this frightful precipice up
the face of which many an actress had gone at a canter.
Each succeeding step
arose eight inches from its fellow. The hero dropped to a seat on the third
step, and pulled his feet to the second step. From this position he lifted
himself to a seat on the fourth step. He had not gone far in this manner before
his frenzy caused him to lose his balance, and he rolled to the foot of the
flight. After all, he could fall downstairs.
He lay there
whispering. "They all got out but I. All but I." Beautiful flames
flashed above him, some were crimson, some were orange, and here and there were
tongues of purple, blue, green.
A curiously calm
thought came into his head. "What a fool I was not to foresee this! I
shall have Rogers furnish manacles of papier-mâché to-morrow."
The thunder of the
fire-lions made the theatre have a palsy.
Suddenly the hero beat
his handcuffs against the wall, cursing them in a loud wail. Blood started from
under his finger-nails. Soon he began to bite the hot steel, and blood fell
from his blistered mouth. He raved like a wolf.
Peace came to him
again. There were charming effects amid the flames. . . . He felt very cool,
delightfully cool. . . . "They've left me chained up."