ter. "I knew it the minute I heard you
play. You've got the touch. Now listen. See if you can get this, and
fake the bass."

He fixed his somber and hypnotic eyes on Terry. His mouth screwed up
into a whistle. The tune--a tawdry but haunting little melody--came
through his lips. Terry turned back to the piano. "Of course you know
you flatted every note," she said.

This time it was the blonde who laughed, and the man who
flushed. Terry cocked her head just a little to one side, like a
knowing bird, looked up into space beyond the piano top, and played the
lilting little melody with charm and fidelity. The dark young man
followed her with a wagging of the head and little jerks of both
outspread hands. His expression was beatific, enraptured. He hummed a
little under his breath and anyone who was music-wise would have known
that he was just a half beat behind her all the way.

When she had finished he sighed deeply, ecstatically. He bent his lean
frame over the counter and, despite his swart coloring, seemed to
glitter upon her--his eyes, his teeth, his very fingernails.

"Something led me here. I never come up on Tuesdays. But
something----"

"You was going to complain," put in his lady, heavily, "about that
Teddy Sykes at the Palace Gardens singing the same songs this week that
you been boosting at the Inn."

He put up a vibrant, peremptory hand. "Bah! What does that matter
now! What does anything matter now! Listen Miss--ah--Miss----?"

"Pl--Sheehan. Terry Sheehan."

He gazed off a moment into space. "Hm. 'Leon Sammett in Songs. Miss
Terry Sheehan at the Piano.' That doesn't sound bad. Now listen, Miss
Sheehan. I'm singing down at the University Inn. The Gottschalk song
hits. I guess you know my work. But I want to talk to you, private.
It's something to your interest. I go on down at the Inn at six. Will
you come and have a little something with Ruby and me? Now?"

"Now?" faltered Terry, somewhat helplessly. Things seemed to be moving
rather swiftly for her, accustomed as she was to the peaceful routine
of the past four years.

"Get your hat. It's your life chance. Wait till you see your name in
two-foot electrics over the front of every big-time house in the
country. You've got music in you. Tie to me and you're made." He
turned to the woman beside him. "Isn't that so, Rube?"

"Sure. Look at ME!" One would not have thought there could be so much
subtle vindictive