Marion Marlowe in St. Louis, or, A Forger's Bold Deed — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

MY QUEEN. | 7 already!” called a cheery voice, as Dr. ‘Regi- nald Brookes, the leading man, came rapidly across the lobby. He smiled at Marion as he raised his hat. He was a handsome young man, of splendid physique and noble bearing. (‘Miss Marlowe’s name and fame have gone before her, as usual,” he went on, jok- ingly. “The people of St. Louis will be charmed to see her; they are people of good taste, and will appreciate an artist.” The beautiful girl blushed beneath the ar- dent gaze, and Alma Allyn came promptly to the rescue. “Of course they'll come to see her! They would be heathen if they didn’t! But have you been to the theatre, doctor, and is it a nice cne? I’m actually getting partciular what kind of a place I play in!” “Tt’s a good house—excellent,’” was the doctor’s answer; “and the dressing-rooms are big enough to go in and turn around; you don’t have to come out backward as you do in some of them.” “Tin mirrors or glass?” asked Marion, laughing, “As if the doctor ever looked in a glass,” murmured Miss Allyn. ‘Why, he never sees his reflection except in your eyes, Marion; he’s not vain enough to look in a mirror.” “Hello! Everybody on deck?” called out a boyish voice. ’ They had reached the entrance now as Bert Jackson joined them. He had just re- turned from watching the trouble around the depot. “Well, my respected governor will strike a hot crowd when he faces that mob,” he said, candidly. “T&Ry’ve wired him to come on, and he’s wired back that he’s coming! There’s to be a meeting of the directors to- night to see if a strike can be averted.” “What road is it, Bert?” asked the doctor. “There are three of them in the muddle,” answered Bert, as he rattled off the names. “Dad is one of the high cockalorums of the Missouri Pacific, and that’s the one that’s got the ugliest crowd at present.” “You'll be pretty nervous to-night, won’t vou, Bert?’ asked Marion, anxiously. “Hadn’t you better arrange with Mr. Temple to let one of the supes substitute for you? That new one we took on last week is a pretty clever fellow.” “Oh, I'll pull through all right, | Sess, laughed Bert. “Pop can’t get here before midnight, so it won’t unsteady my nerves any, but what has Mr. Temple got up his sleeve? Does any one know? He’s invited ‘us all to some shindy or other, and, of course, I can’t think of disappointing the manager.” “T can’t imagine what it is,” said Marion, smiling. “I fancy it must be a supper on the stage, or perhaps it’s a trip to see some of the sights of the city.” “Oh, he’ll see sights enough without going out of his way, if I’m any judge,” laughed Bert. “This town is red hot; all it needs is more tinder. There’ll be a conflagration be- fore morning, if some one don’t put up the damper.” They were walking toward the theatre as they talked, and had nearly reached the en- trance. “There it is now! Oh, no, it isn’t! It’s only that red-headed soubrette that joined the company yesterday,” cried Miss Ellis, softly. “Her blazing locks made me think Bert’s words had come true—that the town was really on fire!” CHAPTER IV. THE THEFT OF THE LETTERS. “Well, the booby says he’ll do it, and what do you think—he’s a dandy at copying hand- writing, Mab,” whispered Lou Leland, as soon as the two girls reached their dressing- room in the theatre. “Now, what I want to do is to get hold of one of this Archie Ray’s letters. I haven’t a doubt that Miss Marlowe has a stack of them !” oe “But they are in her trunk, of course,” was Mabel’s cautious answer. Lou tossed her head in lofty disdain. “What of that! Her trunk is in her dress- ing-room, isn’t it? All we’ve got to do is watch our chance; dodge the watchman and the rest of the push, and the rest is easy.” “It doesn’t seem to me I'd care to do that,” said the elder girl, with a little frown. “It looks like out-and-out stealing, and I con- sider stealing the limit.” COMICHOOKS. Conn