In an instant all heads swung round and there were stentorian shouts of “Silence!”

But Curtis—­for it was he—­was not easily daunted.  “Do you call this fair play!” he demanded; “I am here to-night to make a sporting offer, and one which will afford you vast entertainment.”

Cries of “Shut up!” “Silence!” “He’s drunk!” “Turn him out!” merging into one loud roar forced him to pause.  Several uniformed officials now invaded the box, but Hamar—­who, as well as Kelson, was with Curtis—­fixing them with his big dark eyes that gleamed eerily in the half-lowered lights of the house—­for the stage only at that moment was fully illuminated—­held them in check, and they hung back not knowing what to do.  This move of Hamar’s took with a large section of the audience—­some of whom were possessed with sporting instincts, whilst others were merely curious—­and the somewhat premature cries of “Turn him out!” etc., were soon lost in vociferous shouts of:  “Let them alone!” “Let them speak!” “Let us hear what they have to say.”  It was in the midst of this hubbub that John Martin in a great state of nervous agitation came to the front of the stage and inquired the cause of the commotion.  The shouting still continued, and Gladys, who had come to the performance anticipating something of the sort, called to her father, from the wings, bidding him give Curtis permission to speak.

“You will lose all sympathy if you don’t, Father,” she added; “and besides you have nothing to fear.  It’s sheer bravado and impudence on their part.”

Thus advised, for Gladys was a level-headed girl, John Martin gave in; and the audience showed their approval by a vigorous round of clapping.

“I wish I were spokesman,” Kelson sighed, his eyes glistening at the sight of so many pretty upturned faces.  “Go on, old man!” he added, giving Curtis a nudge.  “Fire away, and show them you know a bit about elocution, for the credit of the Firm.”

Curtis needed no encouragement.  What little bashfulness he had once possessed he had certainly left behind in San Francisco, for he leaned over the front of the box and smiled familiarly at the audience.

“I am Edward Curtis,” he said, “one of the directors of the Modern Sorcery Company Ltd.  Messrs. Martin and Davenport have so often boasted that no one outside their firm can perform their tricks that I have come here to-night resolved to disillusion them.  I not only accept their offer of ten thousand pounds for the solution of their tricks, but I agree to pay them double that amount—­cash down—­if I do not do everything they do—­from ‘The Brass Coffin’ to their world-famed ‘Pumpkin Puzzle.’  With Messrs. Martin and Davenport’s permission I will explain one and all of their tricks to you to-night, and the only thing I ask of you, ladies and gentlemen, is to see that I get fair play.”