Brown strode to center stage and Lucy quieted the instruments with a gesture. The house was eerily silent, which alerted her to the idea that someone might be listening. The manager twisted his moustache. " "Make good your assertions," cried Trenchard, furiously, "or——" "To the proof," interrupted the stranger, calmly. His subjects, however, were no longer entirely under his control; and, though he managed to enforce some little attention to his commands, it was evident his authority was waning fast.
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