Perkins, seated in his office, threw the morning, paper aside. "It's
no use," he said, turning to the office boy, "I don't believe they
ever will find him, dead or alive. Whoever put up the job on Diotti
was a past grand master at that sort of thing. The silent assassin
that lurks in the shadow of the midnight moon is an explosion of
dynamite compared to the party that made way with Diotti. You ask, why
should they kill him? My boy, you don't know the world. They were
jealous of his enormous hit, of our dazzling success. Jealousy did
it."
The "they" of Perkins comprised rival managers, rival artists,
newspaper critics and everybody at large who would not concede that
the attractions managed by Perkins were the "greatest on earth."
"We'll never see his like again--come in!" this last in answer to a
knock.
Diotti appeared at the open door. Perkins jumped like one shot from a
catapult, and rushing toward the silent figure in the doorway
exclaimed: "Bless my soul, are you a ghost?"
"A substantial one," said Diotti with a smile.
"Are you really here?" continued the astonished impresario, using
Diotti's arm as a pump handle and pinching him at the same time.
When they were seated Perkins plied Diotti with all manner of
questions: "How did it happen?" "How did you escape?" and the like,
all of which Diotti parried with monosyllabic replies, finally saying:
"I was dissatisfied with my playing and went away to study."
"Do you know that the failure to fulfill your contract has cost me at
least ten thousand dollars?" said the shrewd manager, the commercial
side of his nature asserting itself.
"All of which I will pay," quietly replied the artist. "Besides I am
ready to play now, and you can announce a concert within a week if you
like."
"If I like?" cried the hustling Perkins. "Here, James," calling his
office boy, "run down to the printer's and give him this," making a
note of the various sizes of "paper" he desired, "and tell Mr.
Tompkins that Diotti is back and will give a concert next Tuesday.
Tell Smith to prepare the newspaper 'ads' and notices immediately."
In an hour Perkins had the entire machinery of his office in motion.
Within twenty-four hours New York had several versions of the
disappearance and return, all leading to one common point--that Diotti
would give a concert the coming Tuesday evening.
The announcement of the reappearance of the Tuscan contained a line to
the effect that the violinist would play for the first time his new
suite--a meditation on the emotions.
He had not seen Mildred.
As he came upon the stage that night the lights were turned low, and
naught but the shadowy outlines of player and violin were seen. His
reception by the audience was not enthusiastic. They evidently
remembered the disappointment caused by his unexpected disappearance,
but this unfriendly attitude soon gave way to evidences of kindlier
feelings.
Mildred was there, more beautiful than ever, and to gain her love
Diotti would have bartered his soul that moment.
The first movement of the suite was entitled "Pity," and the music
flowed like melodious tears. A subdued sob rose and fell with the
sadness of the theme.
Mildred's eyes were moistened as she fixed them on the lone figure of
the player.
Now the theme of pity changed to hope, and hearts grew brighter under
the spell. The next movement depicted joy. As the _virtuoso's_ fingers
darted here and there, his music seemed the very laughter of fairy
voices, the earth looked roses and sunshine, and Mildred, relaxing her
position and leaning forward in the box, with lips slightly parted,
was the picture of eager happiness.
The final movement came. Its subject was love. The introduction
depicted the Arcadian beauty of the trysting place, love-lit eyes
sought each other intuitively and a great peace brooded over the
hearts of all. Then followed the song of the Passionate Pilgrim:
"_If music and sweet poetry agree,
As they must needs, the sister and the brother,
Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me
Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other._
* * * * *
_Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound
That Phoebus' lute (the queen of music) makes;
And I in deep delight, am chiefly drown'd
When as himself to singing he betakes.
One god is god of both, as poets feign,
One knight loves both, and both in thee remain._"
[Illustration: He took her hand reverently]
Grander and grander the melody rose, voicing love's triumph with
wondrous sweetness and palpitating rhythm. Mildred, her face flushed
with excitement, a heavenly fire in her eyes and in an attitude of
supplication, reveled in the glory of a new found emotion.
As the violinist concluded his performance an oppressive silence
pervaded the house, then the audience, wild with excitement, burst
into thunders of applause. In his dressing-room Diotti was besieged by
hosts of people, congratulating him in extravagant terms.
Mildred Wallace came, extending her hands. He took them almost
reverently. She looked into his eyes, and he knew he had struck the
chord responsive in her soul.