The Argosy, Vol. 90 No. 1 — page 189: what you’re looking at

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

THE OTHER SIDE the theatrical profession and other char- acters of the Great White Way discussed the extraordinary act of the new girl who had unintentionally jumped into promi- nence. Sinclair remained alone in his rooms and refused to be interviewed. ‘‘ I have nothing to say ’ was the order he gave to the clerk. An afternoon rehearsal was called to familiarize Miss Marshall with Anne’s part. The box-office of the Shakespeare Thea- ter turned people away that night, for many wanted to see Sinclair out of natural curiosity. In a room situated in the theater build- ing, Williams and Hale sat discussing the way things had turned out, with exclama- tions of surprise and joy. “‘ Sinclair is stil] wild and upset,” Wil- liams remarked. ‘‘ Of course I didn’t tell him anything about Miss Travis going out in the new play.” | “When does she begin rehearsals?” Hale asked, ignoring the reference to Sinclair. “In about a week,” Wiliams answered. “The notices went out to the newspapers to-night.” ‘“‘ Strike while the iron is hot,” Hale re- plied, as he and the manager started down- stairs. They reached the orchestra floor just as the curtain rang up. When Sinclair made his entrance a sub- dued murmur ran through the house. “ He’s nervous,” Williams sajd, casting a keen look at the star. ‘“ Decidedly,” Hale whispered back. ‘“‘ He’s not over the shock yet.” When the second act began they noticed that Sinclair seemed somewhat unstrung. Finally the big scene was about to take place—the one where Anne had snapped her fingers. As the understudy reached the part, she shot across a line with the ginger that was supposed to be in it. Sinclair was about to deliver his reply when he stopped, staring ahead with an abstracted air. Suddenly he shook his head and brushed the palm of his right hand across his trou- bted face. Behind the left wing the stage manager prompted the line, believing that Sinclair OF THE CURTAIN. 183 had forgotten it,: But Sinclair stood im- movable and speechless, brushing his hand in front of Lim again as though to drive something away. ‘“What’s wrong?” Williams demanded, turning to the playwright. ‘It’s the identical spot and line where Miss Travis snapped her fingers,’ replied Hale. “ Look!” Sinclair had thrown back his head, lift- ing his right hand in the air. The next second he snapped his fingers. The report vibrated through the house like a shot from a gun. Then Sinclair, unable to go on with his lines, stood stand- ing as he had done the night before, with a bewildered expression on his face. The curtain dropped. Once again the -orchestra leader tapped his baton to start the music, wondering if the actors and actresses in the company were going crazy one by one, while a buzz of conversation ran through the house. Hale and Williams hurried back stage and made for the star’s dressing-room to determine the cause of his action. Sinclair was pacing up and down, tearing his hair as he had done the night before. ‘I’m done for,” he gasped. ‘“‘ Williams, the face of that Travis girl loomed up before me. I could even see her snapping her fingers. I was unnerved. I tried to speak my lines, but I was like a dumb man.” “Can’t you go on?” Williams asked. “This means a second night’s loss, Sin- clair.” The star shook his head. “T couldn’t play. It’s impossible. I doubt whether I can ever play the part again.” The sound of hand-clapping came to them from the auditorium. ‘Another explanation,’ Williams said srimly, starting for the stage apron. The following morning Anne read in the papers about the affair. After finishiff the. account she sat with melancholy eyes looking out through the hotel window at some clouds that were racing through the sky. Already she felt sorry for Sinclair, for the newspaper stated that he was leaving oO MIG OO CO S CO