He glanced at the first
page. The middle column was devoted to a really capitally written
account of the proceedings at Bow Street consequent upon the arrest of
six men who, it was alleged, had caused a crowd to collect to the
disturbance of the peace by parading the Strand in the undress of Zulu
warriors, shouting in unison the words "Wah! Wah! Wah! Buy 'Squibs.'"
* * * * *
Young Mr. Petheram greeted Roland with a joyous enthusiasm which the
hound Argus, on the return of Ulysses, might have equalled but could
scarcely have surpassed.
It seemed to be Mr. Petheram's considered opinion that God was in His
Heaven and all was right with the world. Roland's attempts to correct
this belief fell on deaf ears.
"Have I seen the advertisements?" he cried, echoing his editor's first
question. "I've seen nothing else."
"There!" said Mr. Petheram proudly.
"It can't go on."
"Yes, it can. Don't you worry. I know they're arrested as fast as we
send them out, but, bless you, the supply's endless. Ever since the
Revue boom started and actors were expected to do six different parts
in seven minutes, there are platoons of music-hall 'pros' hanging about
the Strand, ready to take on any sort of job you offer them.
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