Pulp Fiction, 1909 · page 158 of 227
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AT THE END would call upon you. Do you know why the name of your hotel should cause him to smile?” “T—I don’t know,’ Walker stam- - mered. He was on the point of correcting her with regard to his stopping-place ; but, on second thought, refrained from doing so. ‘“He probably only wants to tell-me |. of his success,’”’ he mused. “ But I wish you would dine with us some evening before you go,’ Miss Bailey continued. “I mean, with Mr. Dempster and myself.” “Thank you; I will try to arrange it,” Walker said as if he meant it. “J will communicate with you as soon as I can arrange it. There is not much time left, and I have a great deal to attend to before I leave for New York. Again I repeat my regrets regarding last eve- ning.” ‘Well, I accept your apology,” she laughed. ‘“‘ Good-by, for the present.” As Walker turned from the telephone, he heard heavy steps in the hallway; and his eyes lighted up expectantly as the manager entered the room. ‘Oh, hallo, Walker; you here?” was his greeting ; but the frown that gathered upon his forehead did not escape the dramatist. ‘Yes, sir,” he responded. here because you sent for me.” “So I did. But I want to see what mail there is for me. Just sit down a few moments, and then I’ll see you.” He nodded toward a vacant chair, and Walker settled in it, while the man- ager hurried on toward his private office. For some time the playwright was kept waiting, endeavoring to draw some conclusion from Mr. Myers’s words or looks. it out from all sides, in the end he found himself as much in the dark as ever. : True, the man’s frown did not fore- cast’ success ; yet his words were cheerful. Then he had sent for him; and, if he did not want to see him, he could have dis- missed him with a few remarks. But just as Walker felt certain all was well, the frown would come before him, and banish the hopes he clung to so tenaciously. “T ‘am But, although he tried to reason. OF “Tits ROPE. 345 The bell in the private office suddenly rang, and the boy hastened to answer the summons. He quickly returned, and ushered the dramatist into the manager’s presence. “Sorry to have kept you waiting, Walker,” Myers began, as he fumbled idly among the papers that cluttered his desk. “ But sit down a moment.” The playwright pulled up a chair, and leaned forward expectantly. ‘Well, Walker, your play is a good one, and [ certainly think it will make a hit when produced.” “Then you take it?” the other broke in excitedly. “ Not so fast,” Myers cautioned, while Walker’s face broke into a nervous smile. “After you left, Monday, I settled down to read it thoroughly. The more I read, the more I liked it; and my only wonder is that some manager did not pounce upon it long ago.’ Walker’s spirits soared far above terra- firma; and he could hardly realize that he was not dreaming, or that his ears were not playing a cruel trick upon him. “So I decided it was just what I wan- ted ; and, as you perhaps already know, I called at your hotel—or, at least, it was the one you gave me—to arrange mat- ters, and get them settled up quickly. I do not need to tell you that the clerk there informed me you had departed only a short while before, leaving no new address.” The playwright stared fixedly at the man before him, only by great effort re- fraining from breaking in upon him and demanding an end to the uncertainty. ‘“T left word that if you called to tell you I wished to see you. On my way down-town, I met a friend who told me of a new play that was in the final re- hearsals in Paris, and for which great things were predicted, and with the English rights still open.” Myers was not looking at Walker as he talked, so did not see the sudden change in‘the other’s face. Indeed, the American was swaying in his chair, as if he were about to swoon. But the manager kept on. ‘So I jumped over to Paris—I saw the play—and have the signed contracts for the English production here in my pocket.” 1DOOL< (CO)