Through this crush we fought our
way, hastened around into a darker street, comparatively quiet and
deserted, and found a door with a feeble lamp over it, which, as a
surly old fellow within told us, served as stage entrance to the
theatre. We crossed the dirty street, and took up our station in the
shadow opposite the door; whence a few actors not required in the
final scene, or not having to make much alteration of attire for the
street, were already emerging, bent first, I suppose, for one or other
of the many taverns or coffee-houses about Covent Garden near at hand.
While we were waiting, two chair-men came with their vehicle and set
it down at one side of the door, and a few boys and women gathered in
the hope of obtaining sixpence by some service of which a player might
perchance be in need on issuing forth. And presently a coach appeared
at the corner of the street, and stopped there, whereupon a gentleman
got out of it, gave the driver and footman some commands, and while
the conveyance remained where it was, approached alone, at a blithe
gait, and took post near us, though more in the light shed by the lamp
over the stage door.
"Gad's life!" I exclaimed, in a whisper.
"What is it?" asked Phil, in a similar voice.
"Falconer!" I replied, ere I had thought.
Philip gazed at the newcomer, who was heedless of our presence. Phil
seemed about to stride forward to him, but reconsidered, and whispered
to me, in a strange tone:
"What can he be doing here, where _she_--? You are sure that's the
man?"
"Yes--but not now--'tis not the place--we came for another purpose--"
"I know--but if I lose him!"
"No fear of that.
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