"
Edward Henry smiled. "I have already heard, in a roundabout way," he
replied, "that Sir Gerald Pompey would not be unwilling to officiate.
My only difficulty is that I'm a truthful man by nature. Whoever
officiates I shall of course have to have him labelled, in my own
interests, as the head of the theatrical profession, and I don't want
to say anything that isn't true."
There was a pause.
"Now, Sir John, couldn't you stay a day or two longer in London, and
join the ship at Marseilles instead of going on board at Tilbury?"
"But I have made all my arrangements. The whole world knows that I am
going on board at Tilbury."
Just then the door opened, and a servant announced:
"Mr. Carlo Trent."
Sir John Pilgrim rushed like a locomotive to the threshold and seized
both Carlo Trent's hands with such a violence of welcome that Carlo
Trent's eyeglass fell out of his eye and the purple ribbon dangled to
his waist.
"Come in, come in!" said Sir John. "And begin to read at once. I've
been looking out of the window for you for the last quarter of an
hour. Alderman, this is Mr. Carlo Trent, the well-known dramatic poet.
Trent, this is one of the greatest geniuses in London.... Ah! You know
each other? It's not surprising! No, don't stop to shake hands. Sit
down here, Trent. Sit down on this chair.... Here, Snip, take his hat.
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