They made the world seem friendly somehow, though he knew it was not.

Wilkes was quite right about one thing. Laura Keene had been in the green room. The commotion had brought her into the wings. Since she could not act, one part suited her as well as any other, and so she was the first person to offer Mr. Lincoln a glass of water, holding it up to the box, high above her head, to Miss Harris, who had asked for it.

She had been one of the first to collect her wits.

It was not so much that the shot had stunned the audience, as that they had been stunned already. Most of them had seen Our American Cousin before, and unless Miss Keene was on stage, there was not much to it. The theatre was hot and they were drugged with boredom.

The stage had been empty, except for Harry Hawk, doing his star monologue. The audience was fond of Harry Hawk, he was a dear, in or out of character, but he was not particularly funny. At the end of the monologue the audience would applaud. Meanwhile it looked at the scenery.

``Well, I guess I know enough to turn you inside out, you sockdologizing old mantrap!'' said Trenchard, otherwise Hawk. There was always a pause here, before the next line.

That was when the gun went off. Yet even that explosion did not mean much. Guns were going off all over Washington City these days, because of the celebrations, and the theatre was not soundproof.

Then the audience saw a small, dim figure appear at the edge of the Presidential box. ``Sic semper tyrannis,'' it said mildly. Booth had delivered his line. Behind him billowed a small pungent cloud of smoke.