Jack, Knave and Fool Read Online Free PDF

judged a superlative performance of something or other (and lacking a hat), he doffed his wig to them, revealing a head quite bald except for a bit of fuzz at the ears.
    “He is such an embarrassment,” said Mr. Humber. “Some come just to laugh at him. I don’t know why the Academy puts up with the old fellow—-though I suppose they must. It’s all that wine he drinks, I suppose.”
    All the members of the orchestra had reassembled and were back in their chairs. The choir had taken its place on a platform to the left of the musicians, with the sopranos, Annie among them, at the far end.
    I half expected Lord Laningham to make some sort of announcement — but no, he remained seated. He seemed subdued somewhat, yet bothered, shifting frequently and, it seemed, somewhat uncomfortably in his chair of honor.
    Perhaps he was merely bestirring his old bones, limbering them up to perform, for sure enough, once choir and orchestra had begun he was up on his feet, no doubt inspired by the booming sound of the great kettledrums. Yet this time he did no more than beat his staff upon the floor. He wandered about a bit uncertainly; then he found his way over to the choir, where he did ogle the sopranos —pretty Annie, it seemed, in particular. The choirmaster was openly annoyed by this.
    I cannot, by the bye, say that I actually heard our Annie singing on that occasion. Certainly I heard the choir, and she was one of them. Her lips moved, and her mouth opened. I watched her closely until Lord Laningham drew near to her, at which time she put her music up before her and hid behind it.
    Still he wandered, yet with faltering step. The ceremonial staff he simply dragged after him, bringing it down only now and then upon the floor. He had paled. Sweat stood upon his face. A murmur of comment at his condition went through the crowd as he found his way back to his chair and collapsed into it. He dropped his staff, and it rolled a few feet from him across the stage. Then did he lean forward as if to retrieve it. Having so leaned, he could somehow not stop himself, and quite out of control, he toppled lengthwise upon the floor. His lower body quivered and jerked, knocking down the chair from which he had fallen and sending the half-consumed bottle of wine spinning across the floor, spilling its contents. Then, in what may have been his last willed act, he raised his head —but only to vomit. Beef, bits of pudding, and a good deal of nasty red liquid, which I took to be wine, spewed forth from his gaping mouth. It was a most unpleasant sight to behold.
    For a moment there was silence. The orchestra had halted, and so, too, the choir. Those in the audience were too stunned to do more than gawk. Yet only for a single eye-blink of a moment did that silence last, for in the next instant all onstage seemed to be converging upon the fallen figure. There were shouts and screams from them, as from the great crowd in the ballroom. Of a sudden all was chaos.
    “What a disgrace!” shouted Mr. Humber. “He’s fallen drunk and vomited out his guts before us. This certainly exceeds the limit.”
    There were others all around who joined him in similar cries of disgust.
    Mr. Donnelly, however, already on his feet, put a different interpretation upon those actions all had witnessed. “Dear God,” said he, “the man is ill. I must do what I can to help him.” And so saying, he left us at the table and ran to the steps nearby leading up to the stage. I saw him pressing through the crowd that suddenly surrounded Lord Laningham.
    There was shouting:
    “Give him room!”
    “Do not push so! You’ll crush my violin.”
    Then just as Mr. Donnelly reached the figure on the floor of the stage and knelt down to him, I felt a tug at my sleeve. It was Sir John, who had come round the table to seek me out special.
    “Jeremy,” said he to me in a hoarse whisper, “you’ve a good pair of eyes and mind enough to note peculiarities. Tell me quickly, boy,