On Saturday mornings there was deposited on the plate of each guest at
breakfast time, a long folded paper with Mrs. White's compliments.
Anna thrust hers into her pocket unopened, and for the first time left
the house without a smile upon her face. She was practically destitute
of jewellery. The few pence left in her purse would only provide a
very scanty lunch. Another day of non-success would mean many
disagreeable things.
And even she was forced to admit to herself that this last resource of
hers was a slender reed on which to lean. She mounted the stairs of
the theatrical agent's office with very much less than her usual
buoyancy, nor did she find much encouragement in the general
appearance of the room into which she was shown. There was already a
score or more of people there, some standing up and talking together,
others seated in chairs ranged along the wall. Beyond was another
door, on which was painted in black letters:
MR. EARLES,
Strictly Private
Every one stared at Anna. Anna stared back at every one with undaunted
composure. A young man with shiny frock coat and very high collar,
advanced towards her languidly.
"Want to see Mr. Earles?" he inquired.
"I do," Anna answered. "Here is my card. Will you take it in to him?"
The young man smiled in a superior manner.
"Have to take your turn," he remarked laconically. "There's twenty
before you, and Mr. Earles is going out at twelve sharp--important
engagement. Better come another morning."
"Thank you," Anna answered. "I will take my chance."
She removed some posters from a chair, and seated herself coolly. The
young man looked at her.
"Unless you have an appointment, which you haven't," he said, "you'll
only waste your time here."
"I can spare it," Anna answered suavely.
The young man entered into a lively little war of words with a
yellow-haired young person near the door. Anna picked up an ancient
magazine, and began to turn over the pages in a leisurely way. The
conversation which her entrance had interrupted began to buzz again
all around her. A quarter of an hour passed. Then the inner door
opened abruptly. A tall, clean-shaven man came out and walked rapidly
through the room, exchanging greetings right and left, but evidently
anxious to avoid being detained. Mr. Earles himself stood upon the
threshold of his sanctum, the prototype of the smart natty Jew, with
black hair, waxed moustache, and a wired flower in his button-hole. A
florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly.
"I'm next, Mr. Earles," she exclaimed. "Been sitting on the doorstep
almost for two hours."
"In a minute, in a minute," he answered, his eyes fixed upon Anna.
"Reuben, come here."
The young man obeyed the summons. His employer retreated into the
further apartment, leaving the door ajar.
"What's that young lady's name--girl in dark brown, stranger here?"
Mr. Earles asked sharply.
The youth produced a crumpled-up card from his waistcoat pocket. A
sense of impending disaster was upon him. Mr. Earles glanced at it,
and his eyes flashed with anger.
"You blithering idiot!" he exclaimed.
Mr. Earles strode into the waiting-room. His face was wreathed in
smiles, his be-ringed hand was cordially outstretched.
"My dear Miss Pellissier," he said impressively, "this is an
unexpected pleasure. Come in! Come in, do. I must apologize for my
young puppy of a clerk. If I had known that you were here you should
not have been kept waiting for a second."
It took a good deal to surprise Anna, but it was all she could do to
follow Mr. Earles with composure into the inner room. There was a
little murmur of consternation from the waiting crowd, and the florid
young woman showed signs of temper, to which Mr. Earles was absolutely
indifferent. He installed Anna in a comfortable easy chair, and placed
his own between her and the door.
"Come," he said, "this is capital, capital. It was only a few months
ago that I told you you must come to London, and you only laughed at
me. Yet here you are, and at precisely the right moment, too.
By-the-bye," he added, in a suddenly altered tone, "I hope, I
trust--that you have not entered into any arrangements with any one
here?"
"I--oh no!" Anna said, a little faintly. "I have made no arrangements
as yet--none at all."
Mr. Earles recovered his spirits.
"Excellent!" he exclaimed. "Your arrival is really most opportune. The
halls are on the lookout for something new. By-the-bye, do you
recognize that?"
Anna looked and gasped. An enormous poster almost covered one side of
the wall--_the_ poster. The figure of the girl upon it in plain black
dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and
astonishing likeness of herself. It was her figure, her style of
dress, her manner of arranging the hair. Mr. Earles regarded it
approvingly.
"A wonderful piece of work," he declared. "A most wonderful likeness,
too. I hope in a few days, Miss Pellissier, that these posters will be
livening up our London hoardings."
Anna leaned back in the chair and laughed softly. Even this man had
accepted her for "Alcide" without a moment's question. Then all the
embarrassments of the matter flashed in upon her. She was suddenly
grave.
"I suppose, Mr. Earles," she said, "that if I were to tell you that
although that poster was designed from a rough study of me, and
although my name is Pellissier, that nevertheless, I am not 'Alcide'
would you believe me?"
"You can try it on, if you like," Mr. Earles remarked genially. "My
only answer would be to ask you to look at that mirror and then at the
poster. The poster is of 'Alcide.' It's a duplicate of the French
one."
Anna got up and looked at the mirror and then at the poster. The
likeness was ridiculous.
"Well?" she said, sitting down again. "I want an engagement."
"Capital!" Mr. Earles declared. "Any choice as to which of the Halls?
You can pick and choose, you know. I recommend the 'Unusual.'"
"I have no choice," Anna declared.
"I can get you," Mr. Earles said, slowly, keeping his eyes fixed upon
her, "forty at the 'Unusual,' two turns, encores voluntary, six for
matinees. We should not bar any engagements at private houses, but in
other respects the arrangement must be exclusive."
"Forty what?" Anna asked bewildered.
"Guineas, of course," Mr. Earles answered, glibly. "Forty guineas a
week. I mentioned sixty, I believe, when I was in Paris, but there are
expenses, and just now business is bad."
Anna was speechless, but she had presence of mind enough to sit still
until she had recovered herself. Mr. Earles watched her anxiously. She
appeared to be considering.
"Of course," he ventured, "I could try for more at the 'Alhambra.' Very
likely they would give----"
"I should be satisfied with the sum you mention," Anna said quietly,
"but there are difficulties."
"Don't use such a word, my dear young lady," Mr. Earles said
persuasively. "Difficulties indeed. We'll make short work of them."
"I hope that you may," Anna answered enigmatically. "In the first
place, I have no objection to the posters, as they have no name on
them, but I do not wish to appear at all upon the stage as 'Alcide.'
If you engage me it must be upon my own merits. You are taking it for
granted that I am 'Alcide.' As a matter of fact, I am not."
"Excuse me," Mr. Earles said, "but this is rubbish."
"Call it what you like," Anna answered. "I can sing the songs 'Alcide'
sang, and in the same style. But I will not be engaged as 'Alcide' or
advertised under that name."
Mr. Earles scratched his chin for a moment thoughtfully. Then a light
seemed to break in upon him. He slapped his knee.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "Of course, I remember now. It was your
sister who married Sir John Ferringhall the other day, wasn't it?"
Anna nodded.
"It was," she admitted.
"You needn't say a word more," Mr. Earles declared. "I see the
difficulty. The old fool's been working on you through your sister to
keep off the stage. He's a prig to the finger-tips, is Sir
John--doesn't know what an artist is. It's awkward, but we'll get
round it somehow. Now I'll tell you what I propose. Let me run you for
six months. I'll give you, say, thirty-five guineas a week clear of
expenses, and half of anything you earn above the two turns a night.
What do you say?"
"I agree," Anna said coldly, "if you will make it three months."
"Better say six," Mr. Earles protested, seating himself before the
desk, and dipping his pen in the ink.
"Four," Anna decided firmly. "I shall not agree to six."
"It scarcely gives me a chance," Mr. Earles said, with a resigned
sigh, "but I shall rely upon you to stick to me so long as I do the
right thing by you. You can't do without an agent, and there's no one
can run you better than I can."
"You must also put in the agreement," Anna said, "that I do not
represent myself to be 'Alcide,' and that I am not advertised to the
public by that name."
Mr. Earles threw down his pen with a little exclamation.
"Come this way," he said.
He opened the door of still another room, in one corner of which was a
grand piano. He seated himself before it.
"Go to the far corner," he said, "and sing the last verse of _Les
Petites_."
He struck a note, and Anna responded. Playing with one hand he turned
on his stool to glance at her. Instinctively she had fallen into the
posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly
forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the
song. Mr. Earles closed the piano with a little bang.
"You are a funny, a very funny young lady," he said, "but we waste
time here. You do not need my compliments. We will get on with the
agreement and you shall have in it whatever rubbish you like."
Anna laughed, and went back to her easy chair. She knew that her voice
was superior to Annabel's, and she had no further qualms. Whilst she
was wondering how to frame her request for an advance, Mr. Earles drew
out his cheque book.
"You will not object," he said, glancing towards her, "to accepting a
deposit. It is customary even where an agreement is drawn."
"I shall have no objection at all," Anna assured him.
He handed her a cheque for thirty-one pounds, ten shillings, and read
the agreement through to her. Anna took up the pen, and signed, after
a moment's hesitation,