And the stage-door was ajar.
Being personages of great importance, they entered into the interior
gloom and collided with the watchman, who was rushing out.
"Is that you, Alderman Keats?" exclaimed the watchman. "Thank Heaven!"
The alderman then learnt that two of Hagentodt's Bengal tigers were
having an altercation about a lady, and that it looked like a duel to
the death. (Yet one would have supposed that after two performances, at
eight-thirty and ten-thirty respectively, those tigers would have been
too tired and bored to quarrel about anything whatever.) The watchman
had already fetched Hagentodt from his hotel, but Hagentodt's revolver
was missing--could not be found anywhere, and the rivals were in such a
state of fury that even the unique Hagentodt would not enter their cage
without a revolver. Meanwhile invaluable tigers were being mutually
destructive, and the watchman was just off to the police-station to
borrow a revolver.
The roaring grew terrific.
"Have you got your revolver, Alderman Keats?" asked the watchman.
"No," said the alderman, "I haven't."
"Oh!" said the Vice. "I thought I saw you showing it to your cousin and
some others.
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