"Didn't that little bully, when he lost his temper that day at the Van
Twiller, when we had our last fight--didn't he pull a paper out of his
box and shake it in my face, and--"
"But--you could have them arrested for conspiracy and--"
"And the proof of it could be destroyed and then--but I can't see how
this interests you."
"No--no," I said thoughtfully. "I only happened to lump it in with the
contract we haven't--you and I. And as there's no contract, why
there's no need of my waiting till the end of the season."
"Do you mean to say you'd--you'd--"
"If 'twere done, 'twere better it'd be done--quickly," I said
Macbethically.
He looked at me. Sitting there on his desk, his clenched fist on his
knee, he looked for a moment as though he was about to fly at me. Then
all of a sudden he slipped into his chair, leaned back and laughed.
It wasn't a pleasant laugh, Mag. No--wait. Let me tell you the rest.
"You are so shrewd, Olden, so awfully shrewd! Your eye is so
everlastingly out for the main chance, and you're still so young that I
predict a--a great future for you. I might even suggest that by
cultivating Tausig personally--"
"You needn't."
"No, you're right; I needn't. You can discount any suggestion I might
make. You just want to be the first to go over, eh? To get there
before Gray does--to get all there is in it for the first rebel that
lays down his arms; not to come in late when submission is stale--and
cheap. Don't worry about terms, you poor little babe in the woods.
Don't--" His own words seemed to choke him.
"Don't you think--" I began a bit unsteadily.
"I think--oh, what a fool I've been!"
That stiffened me.
"Of course, you have," I said cordially. "It's silly to fight the
push, isn't it? It's only the cranks that get cocky and think they can
upset the fellows on top. The thing to do is to find out which is the
stronger--if you're a better man than the other fellow, down him. If
he's the champion, enlist under him. But be in it. What's the use of
being a kicker all your life? You only let some one else come in for
the soft things, while you stay outside and gnaw your finger-nails and
plot and plan and starve. You spend your life hoping to live to-morrow,
while the Tausigs are living high to-day. The thing to do is to be
humble if you can't be arrogant. If they've got you in the door, don't
curse, but placate them. Think of Gaffney herding sheep out in Nevada;
of Iringer in the asylum; of Howison--"
"Admirable! admirable!" he interrupted sarcastically. "The only fault
I have to find with your harangue is that you've misconceived my
meaning entirely. But I needn't enlighten you. Good morning, Miss
Olden--good-by."
He turned to his desk and pulled out some papers. I knew he wasn't so
desperately absorbed in them as he pretended to be.
"Won't you shake hands," I asked, "and wish me luck?"
He put down his pen. His face was white and hard, but as he looked at
me it gradually softened.
"I suppose--I suppose, I am a bit unreasonable just this minute," he
said slowly. "I'm hard hit and--and I don't just know the way out.
Still, I haven't any right to--to expect more of you than there is in
you, you poor little thing! It's not your fault, but mine, that I've
expected--Oh, for God's sake--Nance--go, and leave me alone!"
I had to take that with me to the Van Twiller, and it wasn't pleasant.
But Tausig received me with open arms.
"Got tired of staying out in the cold--eh?" he grinned.
"I'm tired of vaudeville," I answered. "Can't you give me a chance in
a comedy?"
"Hm! Ambitious, ain't you?"
"Obermuller has a play all ready for me--written for me. He'd star me
fast enough if he had the chance."
"But he'll never get the chance."
"Oh, I don't know."
"But I do. He's on the toboggan; that's where they all get, my dear,
when they get big-headed enough to fight us."
"But Obermuller's not like the others. He's not so easy. And he is so
clever; why, the plot of that comedy is the bulliest thing--"
"You've read it--you remember it?"
"Oh, I know it by heart--my part of it. You see, he wouldn't keep away
from me while he was thinking of it. He kept consulting me about
everything in it. In a way, we worked over it together."
The little man looked at me, slowly closing one eye. It is a habit of
his when he's going to do something particularly nasty.
"Then, in a way, as you say, it is part yours."
"Hardly! Imagine Nance Olden writing a line of a play!"
"Still you--collaborated; that's the word. I say, my dear, if I could
read that comedy, and it was--half what you say it is, I might--I don't
promise, mind--but I might let you have the part that was written for
you and put the thing on. Has he drilled you any, eh? He was the best
stage-manager we ever had before he got the notion of managing for
himself--and ruining himself."
"Well, he's all that yet. Of course, he has told me, and we agreed how
the thing should be done. As he'd write, you know, he'd read the thing
over to me, and I--"
"Fine--fine! A reading from that fool Obermuller would be enough to
open the eyes of a clever woman. I'd like to read that comedy--yes?"
"But Obermuller would never--"
"But Olden might--"
"What?"
"Dictate the plot to my secretary, Mason, in there," he nodded his head
back toward the inner room. "She could give him the plot and as much
of her own part in full as she could remember. You know Mason. Used to
be a newspaper man. Smart fellow, that, when he's sober. He could
piece out the holes--yes?"
I looked at him. The little beast sat there, slowly closing one eye
and opening it again. He looked like an unhealthy little frog, with
his bald head, his thin-lipped mouth that laughed, while the wrinkles
rayed away from his cold, sneering eyes that had no smile in them.
"I--I wouldn't like to make an enemy of a man like Obermuller, Mr.
Tausig."
"Bah! Ain't I told you he's on the toboggan?"
"But you never can tell with a man like that. Suppose he got into that
combine with Heffelfinger and Dixon and Weinstock?"
"What're you talking about?"
"Well, it's what I've heard."
"But Heffelfinger and Dixon and Weinstock are all in with us; who told
you that fairy story?"
"Obermuller himself."
The little fellow laughed. His is a creaky, almost silent little
laugh; if a spider could laugh he'd laugh that way.
"They're fooling him a bunch or two. Never you mind Obermuller. He's a
dead one."
"Oh, he said that you thought they were in with you, but that nothing
but a written agreement would hold men like that. And that you hadn't
got."
"Smart fellow, that Obermuller. He'd have been a good man to have in
the business if it hadn't been for those independent ideas he's got.
He's right; it takes--"
"So there is an agreement!" I shouted, in spite of myself, as I leaned
forward.
He sat back in his chair, or, rather, he let it swallow him again.
"What business is that of yours? Stick to the business on hand. Get to
work on that play with Mason inside. If it's good, and we decide to
put it on, we'll pay you five hundred dollars down in addition to your
salary. If it's rot, you'll have your salary weekly all the time
you're at it, just the same as if you were working, till I can place
you. In the meantime, keep your ears and eyes open and watch things,
and your mouth shut. I'll speak to Mason and he'll be ready for you
to-morrow morning. Come round in the morning; there's nobody about
then, and we want to keep this thing dark till it's done. Obermuller
mustn't get any idea what we're up to.... He don't love you--no--for
shaking him?"
"He's furious; wouldn't even say good-by. I'm done for with him,
anyway, I guess. But what could I do?"
"Nothing, my dear; nothing. You're a smart little girl," he chuckled.
"Ta-ta!"