Panting and frightened, she tried the door with weak hands, to find it locked.  From behind it rose the blare of brass and the sound of singing.  She accosted a man who approached her through the narrow alley, but he had cruised from the charted course in search of adventure and was not minded to go in quest of doormen; rather, he chose to sing a chantey, to the bibulous measures of which he invited her to dance with him, so she slipped away till he had teetered past.  He was some longshoreman in that particular epoch of his inebriety where life had no burden save the dissipation of wages.

Returning, she pounded on the door, possessed of the sense that the man she sought was here, till at last it was flung open, framing the silhouette of a shirt-sleeved, thick-set youth, who shouted: 

“What ’n ’ell do you want to butt in for while the show’s on?  Go round front.”  She caught a glimpse of disordered scenery, and before he could slam the door in her face thrust a silver dollar into his hand, at the same time wedging herself into the opening.  He pocketed the coin and the door clicked to behind her.

“Well, speak up.  The act’s closin’.”  Evidently he was the directing genius of the performance, for at that moment the chorus broke into full cry, and he said, hurriedly: 

“Wait a minute.  There goes the finally,” and dashed away to tend his drops and switches.  When the curtain was down and the principals had sought their dressing-rooms he returned.

“Do you know Mr. Glenister?” she asked.

“Sure.  I seen him to-night.  Come here.”  He led her towards the footlights, and, pulling back the edge of the curtain, allowed her to peep past him out into the dance-hall.  She had never pictured a place like this, and in spite of her agitation was astonished at its gaudy elegance.  The gallery was formed of a continuous row of compartments with curtained fronts, in which men and women were talking, drinking, singing.  The seats on the lower floor were disappearing, and the canvas cover was rolling back, showing the polished hardwood underneath, while out through the wide folding-doors that led to the main gambling-room she heard a brass-lunged man calling the commencement of the dance.  Couples glided into motion while she watched.

“I don’t see him,” said her guide.  “You better walk out front and help yourself.”  He indicated the stairs which led up to the galleried boxes and the steps leading down on to the main floor, but she handed him another coin, begging him to find Glenister and bring him to her.  “Hurry; hurry!” she implored.

The stage-manager gazed at her curiously, remarking, “My!  You spend your money like it had been left to you.  You’re a regular pie-check for me.  Come around any time.”