The Argosy for May — page 159: what you’re looking at

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

346 He glanced up at the man before him, and his face clouded at what he saw there. : Walker’s head had sunk upon his chest, and he swayed back and forth as if every few seconds he would fall to the floor. But, as the other stopped talking, the dramatist quickly braced up. “Then you—don’t want—my play?”’ he inquired thickly. ‘“T can’t use two,” the manager de-- clared. ‘‘ And I like this new one better than I do yours. Of course, it may not be as good; but I have seen it tried out, so I feel practically safe in taking it.” His voice lowered to one of real sym- pathy. ‘“T hope you will soon find a manager to produce yours, Walker. I really think it excellent, and—” “Yet you don’t want it yourself,” Walker said, in a hollow voice. ‘Why, how can I use it?” Myers returned impatiently. ‘“ Really, it’s your own fault that we have not already signed our contracts. I had decided to take it, and went to find you. If you hadn’t changed your hotel—” “Vou’d have taken it,’ Walker in- terrupted bitterly. ; “Tixactly! Why, we’d already have begun to pick the cast. Here is your manuscript.” The other took it mechanically, and, for a moment, neither spoke. Walker’s eyes had a far-away look in them as he stared at the opposite wall. Then his face hardened, and he burst out vin- dictively : “That American! He’s to blame!” ‘“ What do you mean?” Myers queried. “T mean—” the playwright paused, then seemingly bringing himself back to the present, a look of despair spread over his countenance—‘ I mean that— I’ve reached the end—of my rope!” The manager stared questioningly at him; but, before he could inquire fur- ther, Walker rose from his chair and strode rapidly from the room, venting his spite upon the world in general by noisily slamming the door after him. V. WALKER hurried back to his hotel as one in a semiconscious condition, so THE ARGOSY. dazed was he over the terrible disap- pointment. He kept muttering in an undertone: “ Failure! Failure!” In fact, his actions seemed so strange to the passers-by that many of them 4 turned and stared after him, thinking he must be mentally unsound. When he reached his hotel he rushed directly to his room, where he remained in a sort of stupor for some time. He stared unseeingly at the opposite wall, a dull, blank expression in his eyes. Then suddenly they lighted up with a gleam of rage, and he sprang to his feet. Be “That American!” he cried, as he paced up and down the narrow room; ‘he’s to blame for it all. He forced me to change my hotel! He forced me to miss Myers! ure!” His teeth ground together, and he added, ina tone that almost resembled a whistle as the words shot through them: ‘If I had him here now, I’d do something desperate—something I would regret later.”’ Sheer exhaustion—mental and physi- cal—at last caused him to slow down from the steady stride with which he had continued to pace back and forth, and a few moments later he flung him- self upon the bed, where, tired out, na- ture quickly closed his eyes, and he fell into a heavy sleep. . The next morning he felt quite him- self again. The recollection that with- in the next twenty-four hours he would be on his way to New York had a cheer- ing effect. London had grown positive- ly distasteful to him, and. he looked for- ward eagerly to a return to his native land. After breakfast he carefully placed his check-book in his pocket and started out for the express office, having already planned to secure the cash and\then go to the steamship company’s office for his ticket. It was early in the summer, so he was sure of finding accommodation. - As he stood before the cashier’s win- dow, he noticed there was a strange man behind the enclosure, and his fingers trembled with nervousness asehe pushed the checks through the grating. } “By the way, Mr. Walker,” the man said as he glanced at the signature, CORNICLOOO© (C SS He forced me to fail- - (C@)