y open
jealousy made me admire soberly. But when he told me, quite suddenly, as
though on an afterthought, that he meant to make a play of it and not a
story, I had the solid satisfaction at that moment of calling him a
fool.

"The ordinary author of my day, you see, had a certain timorous respect
for the technique of the stage. It never occurred to us to make light of
those literary conventions which it was not our business to understand.
We were behind you fellows in every way. But Pharazyn was a sort of
forerunner: he said that any intelligent person could write a play, if
he wanted to, and provided he could write at all. He said his story was
a born play; and it was, in a way; but I told him I doubted whether he
could train it up with his own hand to be a good-acting one. I knew I
was right. He had neither the experience nor the innate constructive
faculty, one or other of which is absolutely necessary for the writing
of possible plays. I implored him to turn the thing into a good dramatic
novel, and so make his mark at one blow. But no; the fatal fit was on
him, and I saw that it must run its course. Already he could see and
hear his audience laughing and crying, so he said, and I daresay he
could also feel the crinkle of crisp weekly receipts. I only know that
we sat up all night over it, arguing and smoking and drinking whisky
until my windows overlooking the river caught the rising sun at an
angle. Then I gave in. For poor old Pharazyn was more obstinate than
ever, though he thanked me with the greatest good temper for my
well-meant advice.

"'And look here, my boy,' says he, as he puts on his hat, 'you shan't
hear another word about this till the play's written; and you are to ask
no questions. Is that a bargain? Very well, then. When I've finished
it--down to the very last touches--_you_ shall come and sit up all night
with _me_, and I'll read you every word. And by gad, old chap, if they
give me a call the first night, and want a speech--and I see you sitting
in your stall, like a blessed old fool as you are--by gad, sir, I'll
hold up you and your judgment to the ridicule of the house, so help me
never!'

[Illustration: "I COULD SMELL HIS PIPE THROUGH THE KEYHOLE."]

"Well, I am coming to that first night presently. Meanwhile, for the
next six months, I saw very little of Pharazyn, and less still in the
new year. He seldom came to my rooms now; when he did I could never get
him to stay and sit up with me