"A gentleman downstairs to see you, Mr. Armytage. He says his name is
Walberg but you don't know him. He says it's a business matter."

"Very well, I'll be down." A business matter? He had no business matters
with any one except Baird.

He was smitten with a quick and quite illogical fear. Perhaps he would
not have to tear up that contract and hurl it in the face of the manager
who had betrayed him. Perhaps the manager himself would do the tearing.
Perhaps Baird, after seeing the picture, had decided that Merton Gill
would not do. Instantly he felt resentful. Hadn't he given the best that
was in him? Was it his fault if other actors had turned into farce one
of the worth-while things?

He went to meet Mr. Walberg with this resentment so warm that his
greeting of the strange gentleman was gruff and short. The caller, an
alert, businesslike man, came at once to his point. He was, it proved,
not the representative of a possibly repenting Baird. He was, on the
contrary, representing a rival producer. He extended his card--The
Bigart Comedies.

"I got your address from the Holden office, Mr. Armytage. I guess I
routed you out of bed, eh? Well, it's like this, if you ain't sewed up
with Baird yet, the Bigart people would like to talk a little business
to you. How about it?"

"Business?" Mr. Armytage fairly exploded this. He was unhappy and
puzzled; in consequence, unamiable.

"Sure, business," confirmed Mr. Walberg. "I understand you just finished
another five-reeler for the Buckeye outfit, but how about some stuff for
us now? We can give you as good a company as that one last night and a
good line of comedy. We got a gag man that simply never gets to the end
of his string. He's doping out something right now that would fit you
like a glove--and say, it would be a great idea to kind a' specialize in
that spur act of yours. That got over big. We could work it in again. An
act like that's good for a million laughs."

Mr. Armytage eyed Mr. Walberg coldly. Even Mr. Walberg felt an extensive
area of glaciation setting in.

"I wouldn't think of it," said the actor, still gruffly.

"Do you mean that you can't come to the Bigart at all--on any
proposition?"

"That's what I mean," confirmed Mr. Armytage.

"Would three hundred and fifty a week interest you?"

"No," said Mr. Armytage, though he gulped twice before achieving it.

Mr. Walberg reported to his people that this Armytage lad was one
hard-boiled proposition