When Obermuller sent for me I thought he wanted to see me about that
play he's writing in which I'm to star--when the pigs begin to fly.
Funniest thing in the world about that man, Mag. He knows he can't get
bookings for any play on earth; that if he did they'd be canceled and
any old excuse thrown at him, as soon as Tausig heard of it and could
put on the screws. He knows that there isn't an unwatched hole in
theatrical America through which he can crawl and pull me and the play
in after him. And yet he just can't let go working on it. He loves
it, Mag; he loves it as Molly loved that child of hers that kept her
nursing it all the years of its life, and left her feeling that the
world had been robbed of everything there was for a woman to do when it
died.
Obermuller has told me all the plot. In fact, he's worked it out on
me. I know it as it is, as he wanted it to be, and as it's going to
be. He tells me he's built it up about me; that it will fit me as
never a comedy fitted a player yet, and that we'll make such a hit--the
play and I together--that ...
And then he remembers that there's no chance; not the ghost of one; and
he falls to swearing at the Trust.
"Don't you think, Mr. O.," I said, as he began again when I came into
his office, "that it might be as well to quit cursing the Syndicate
till you've got something new to say or something different to rail
about? It seems to me a man's likely to get daffy if he keeps harping
on--"
"Oh, I've got it all right, Nance, be sure of that! I've got something
different to say of them and something new to swear about. They've
done me up; that's all. Just as they've fixed Iringer and Gaffney and
Howison."
"Tell me."
He threw out his arms and then let them fall to his side.
"Oh, it's easy," he cried, "so easy that I never thought of it.
They've just bought the Vaudeville out of hand and served notice on me
that when my lease expires next month they'll not be able to renew it,
'unfortunately'! That's all. No; not quite. In order to kill all
hope of a new plan in me they've just let it get to be understood that
any man or woman that works for Obermuller needn't come round to them
at any future time."
"Phew! A blacklist."
"Not anything so tangible. It's just a hint, you know, but it works
all right. It works like--"
"What are you going to do; what can you do?"
"Shoot Tausig or myself, or both of us."
"Nonsense!"
"Yes, of course, it's nonsense, or rather it's only what I'd like to
do.... But that's not the question. Never mind about me. It's what
are you going to do?"
He looked straight at me, waiting. But I didn't answer. I was
thinking.
"You don't realize, Nance, what those fellows are capable of. When
Gaffney told me, before he gave up and went West, that there was a
genuine signed conspiracy among them to crush out us independents, I
laughed at him. 'It's a dream, Gaffney,' I said. 'Forget it.' 'It's no
dream, as you'll find out when your turn comes in time,' he shouted.
'It's a fact, and what's more, Iringer once taxed Tausig to his face
with it; told him he knew there was such a document in existence,
signed by the great Tausig himself, by Heffelfinger of the Pacific
circuit; by Dixon of Chicago, and Weinstock of New Orleans, binding
themselves to force us fellows to the wall, and specifying the per
cent. of profit each one of 'em should get on any increase of
business; to blacklist every man and woman that worked for us; to buy
up our debts and even bring false attachments, when--'"
"Now, weren't there enough real debts to satisfy 'em? They're hard to
please, if you haven't creditors enough to suit 'em!"
He looked grim, but he didn't speak.
"I don't believe it, anyway, Mr. O; and 'tisn't good for you to keep
thinking about just one thing. You'll land where Iringer did, if you
don't look out. How did he know about it, anyway?"
"There was a leak in Tausig's office. Iringer used to be in with them,
and he had it from a clerk who--but never mind that. It's the
blacklisting I'm talking about now. Gray's just been in to see me, to
let me know that she quits at the end of the season. And his Lordship,
too, of course. You're not burdened with a contract, Nance. Perhaps
you'd better think it over seriously for a day or two and decide if it
wouldn't be best--"
"I don't have to," I interrupted then.
"Nance!" he cried, jumping up, as though he'd been relieved of half his
troubles.
"I don't have to think it over," I went on slowly, not looking at the
hand he held out to me. "It doesn't take long to know that when you're
between the devil and the deep sea, you'd better try--the devil rather
than be forced out into the wet."
"What?--you don't mean--"
I knew he was looking at me incredulously, but I just wouldn't meet his
eye.
"My staying with you will do you no good--" was hurrying now to get it
over with--"and it would do me a lot of harm. I think you're right,
Mr. Obermuller; I'd better just go over to where it's warm. They'll be
glad to get me and--and, to tell the truth, I'll be glad to get in with
the Syndicate, even if I can't make as good terms as I might have by
selling that contract, which--like the famous conspiracy you're half
mad about--never existed."
He sat down on the edge of the desk. I caught one glimpse of his face.
It was black; that was enough for me. I turned to go.
"Ah, but it did, Miss Olden, it did!" he sneered.
"I won't believe it on the word of a man that's been in the lunatic
asylum ever since he lost his theater."
"Perhaps you'll believe it on mine."