clusive playhouse of the
city, he began to appear in its lobby every night in a dinner-coat or
a dress-suit, silk topper and all, with an almost modest diamond stud
in his white shirt-front; and ladies, as they came in, asked in awed
whispers of their husbands: "Is _that_ Dan Spratt?" Some few who had
occasion to meet him went away gasping: "Why, the man seems really
nice!" Others of "the profession," about whom the public never knew,
spoke his name with tears of gratitude.

Mr. Spratt, immersed in troubles of his own, scarcely looked up as
Bobby entered, and only grunted in greeting.

"Spratt," began Bobby, who knew the man quite well through "sporting"
events engineered by Biff Bates, "the Neapolitan Grand Opera Company
is stranded here, and--"

"Where are they?" interrupted Spratt eagerly, all his abstraction
gone.

"At the Hotel Larken," began Bobby again. "I--"

"Have they got their props and scenery?"

"Everything, I understand," said Bobby. "I came around to see you--"

"Who's running the show?" demanded Spratt.

"Their manager decamped with the money--with what little there was,"
explained Bobby, "and they came to me by accident. I understand you
have an open date next week."

"It's not open now," declared Spratt. "The date is filled with the
Neapolitan Grand Opera Company."

"There doesn't seem to be much use of my talking, then," said Bobby,
smiling.

"Not much," said Spratt. "They're a good company, but I've noticed
from the reports that they've been badly managed. The Dago that
brought them over didn't know the show business in this country and
tried to run the circus himself; and, of course, they've gone on the
rocks. It's great luck that they landed here. I just heard a bit ago
that they were in town. I suppose they're flat broke."

"Why, yes," said Bobby. "I just went up to the Hotel Larken and said
I'd be responsible for their hotel bill."

"Oh," said Spratt. "Then you're backing them for their week here."

"Well, I'm not quite sure about that," hesitated Bobby.

"If you don't, I will," offered Spratt. "There's a long line of
full-dress Willies here that'll draw their week's wages in advance to
attend grand opera in cabs. At two and a half for the first sixteen
rows they'll pack the house for the week, and every diamond in the
hock-shops will get an airing for the occasion. But you saw it first,
Burnit, and I won't interfere."

"Well, I don't know," Bobby again hesitated. "I haven't