Without a word Audrey rose and departed.  He followed her to the door and held it open.

“Bon jour, Madame.”

She descended the stairs.  Perhaps it was his sudden illogical change of tone; perhaps it was the memory of his phrase, “assured of a large audience,” coupled with a picture of the sinister Mr. Cowl unsuccessfully trying to give away tickets—­but whatever was the origin of the sob, she did give a sob.  As she walked downcast through the courtyard she heard clearly the sounds of Musa’s violin, played with savage vigour.

CHAPTER XLI

FINANCIAL NEWS

The Salle Xavier, or Xavier Hall, had been built, with other people’s money, by Xavier in order to force the general public to do something which the general public does not want to do and never would do of its own accord.  Namely, to listen to high-class music.  It had not been built, and it was not run, strange to say, to advertise a certain brand of piano.  Xavier was an old Jew, of surpassing ugliness, from Cracow or some such place.  He looked a rascal, and he was one—­admittedly; he himself would imply it, if not crudely admit it.  He had no personal interest in music, either high-class or low-class.  But he possessed a gift for languages and he had mixed a great deal with musicians in an informal manner.  Wagner, at Venice, had once threatened Xavier with a stick, and also Xavier had twice run away with great exponents of the role of Isolde.  His competence as a connoisseur of Wagner’s music, and of the proper methods of rendering Wagner’s music, could therefore not be questioned, and it was not questioned.

He had a habit of initiating grandiose schemes for opera or concerts and of obtaining money therefor from wealthy amateurs.  After a few months he would return the money less ten per cent. for preliminary expenses and plus his regrets that the schemes had unhappily fallen through owing to unforeseen difficulties.  And wealthy amateurs were so astonished to get ninety per cent. of their money back from a rascal that they thought him almost an honest man, asked him to dinner, and listened sympathetically to details of his next grandiose scheme.  The Xavier Hall was one of the few schemes—­and the only real estate scheme—­that had ever gone through.  With the hall for a centre, Xavier laid daily his plans and conspiracies for persuading the public against its will.  To this end he employed in large numbers clerks, printers, bill posters, ticket agents, doorkeepers, programme writers, programme sellers, charwomen, and even artists.  He always had some new dodge or hope.  The hall was let several times a week for concerts or other entertainments, and many of them were private speculations of Xavier.  They were nearly all failures.  And the hall, thoroughly accustomed to seeing itself half empty, did not pay interest on its capital.  How could it?  Upon occasions there had actually been more