From nowhere, though it might have been the flies, the word fire was, with a howl, repeated. The house lights came swiftly up. Enderby now saw, very rawly revealed, real seated people ready to unseat themselves, a lot of them, uneasily looking for the source of the cry or the source of the referent of the cry. Fire. 'Stay where you are, damn it,' Enderby yelled, as people began to panic their way into the aisles ... the beginning of a dangerous pushing out ... 'Blast it. Back, you stupid buggers.' And, to the gawping orchestra, 'Play, damn it.' Shakespeare on the Titanic. They began to play, though not all the same thing. The audience, which had seen on films audiences tumbling out from fires, ready to trample, tumbled out none the less, ready to trample. Bloody Americans, no discipline, too prone to panic.