CHAPTER XX. SARGENT FINDS A PARTNER.
"Thank you, Mr. Havener," said Frank. "You took hold of the fellow at exactly the right time."
"He didn't get what he merited," growled the stage manager.
"I was surprised that he should kick. He has been quiet enough all along. Why, when I had that trouble with Dunton, Sargent refused to stand by Dunton, although they were chums."
"Simply because Sargent was afraid Dunton would do something to get them both jailed. He knew Dunton had a terrible temper. To-day I would trust Dunton further than Sargent."
"Perhaps you are right."
"Know it. Dunton isn't a sneak. If he hates anybody, he lets them know it. Sargent is two-faced, treacherous. He has a way of making people think he's decent, but he has shown his true character to-night."
"Is it true, Havener, that the company agreed to go out with me and stand by me till my money was gone, after which they intended to throw me over?"
Havener hesitated.
"Tell me the truth," urged Frank.
"Well, I believe some of them made that kind of talk," confessed the stage manager. "We were in desperate need of a backer, you know, when you turned up with a roll. But, possibly with the single exception of Sargent, they are ready to stand by you now. They know you have done everything possible, and it is not your fault that we are in this hole. Money is scarce out here in this country, and so people can't afford to go to shows. Crops have been poor, and people are feeling blue. We've been unlucky in striking this section of the country."
"Anyhow, I am getting some experience for my money," smiled Frank. "If I ever take out another company, I shall know how to avoid some of the pitfalls we have run into this time. What's the prospect of a house to-night?"
"Pretty good, though the advance sale was light. Look out."
They went to the peep-hole in the curtain where they could look out and see the house.
In the meantime, Sargent had gone into the dressing room, where he found Douglas Dunton putting on the finishing touches of his make-up. Sargent sat down on a box and expressed himself in some very lurid language.
Dunton put in some lines to represent a heavy scowl on his forehead, then turned and surveyed Sargent.
"Why aren't you made up, Art?" he asked.
"Because I don't want to be!" grated Sargent. "I've quit."
"What?"
"Won't play to-night."
"Are you crazy?"
"No."
"You must be."
"You're a fool, Dug! The whole company are fools! What's the use to go on this way? Things are getting worse and worse. No money for two weeks; no prospect of any to come. Wash up, Dug, and we'll jump out of here."
"And leave Merriwell in the lurch?"
"Hang Merriwell!"
"He's not to blame for our hard luck."
"He's not fit to manage a company, and you know it. You have every reason for hating Merriwell; why are you sticking by him? You even tried to kill him once."
"When I was daffy. I was so mad I didn't know what I was doing."
"It would have been a good thing had you done it."
"Well, that beats!" gasped Dunton. "Why, you are the fellow who gave me all kinds of fits because I thought of such a thing! You threatened to quit me cold."
"Because of the danger, and not from any love of Merriwell."
"The danger?"
"Yes."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well, you might have been arrested and hanged. I didn't want my neck stretched as an accomplice."
"Was that it?" said Dunton, slowly, looking hard at his companion, the scowl on his forehead making him seem very fierce. "It was not out of friendship for me that you urged me to desist! It was because you were scared—your heart failed you."
"Oh, put it that way, if you like!"
"I thought better of you, Sargent. Never mind. I suppose it is natural for any man to be selfish. Now I know you for just what you are."
"Don't be insulting, Dunton. We've been friends a long time. This case is different from yours. I am not doing anything that will get either of us into trouble. I simply refuse to be dragged along this way any further. Merriwell may fool the others, but he can't fool me."
"Fool you—how?"
"He's been letting a certain member of the company have money."
"What member?"
"Cassie Lee."
"How do you know?"
"Cates saw him do it!"
"When?"
"Before we left Hartland."
"Cassie was sick."
"Sick! Rot! She'd been using the needle again."
"The needle?"
"Sure thing."
"What needle?"
"The syringe."
"What are you driving at?"
"Don't you know?"
"I'm blessed if I do!"
"She is a morphine fiend."
"What?"
"Dead right. Injects it into her arm with a syringe. You know well enough there's something the matter with her. Her pale face, the dark rings round her eyes, her queer actions—all indicate something ails her. She had to have the stuff, and Merriwell forked over to her, that's all."
Dunton leaned against the little shelf.
"I'm blessed if I ever knew anything about this before, but I have known there was something the matter with Cassie. I wonder if Havener knows any——"
Sargent jumped up and paced the floor.
"Curse Havener!" he hissed. "Don't talk to me about him! If it hadn't been for him——"
"What?"
"Well, I wouldn't be in here now. Just told Merriwell I was done unless he forked some stuff. Havener came along and bullied me. But Havener doesn't know what I know. He doesn't know how thick Merriwell and Cassie are, though he must be blind not to see there is something between them. I'd open his eyes—I'd tell him, if I dared."
"I wouldn't do it, Sargent, if I were you."
"Oh, I won't—I know better! Havener's got an awful temper. He might kill me. Let him go on being a fool. He'll find it all out sometime. When he does—well, I pity Merriwell."
"You will do well to keep yourself out of the muss. Merriwell isn't so soft. I believe he is dangerous, and I know he can fight. He's not afraid of anything. Go ahead and make up, Sargent. You'll have to go on to-night."
Muttering fiercely, Sargent began to change his clothes and get ready to play his part. He took off his coat and hung it up.
After watching him some seconds, Dunton looked at his watch and said:
"You'll have to hurry. Not much time."
Then he went out, leaving Sargent alone in the dressing room.
Outside the door Havener was standing.
"Is Sargent making up?" asked the stage manager.
Dunton assured him that he was, but Havener continued to stand before the door.
Left alone, Sargent paused and looked around. There was a door in the dressing room that opened into the next room. Sargent walked over and tried it. It opened beneath his hand. He looked into the adjoining room and saw it was empty.
Then Sargent walked back and hastily donned his street clothes. In a hurry he threw his costumes and other property into his trunk, which he closed and locked.
"We'll see!" he muttered—"we'll see if they can force me to play to-night!"
He slipped into the adjoining dressing room and made his way out by a side door. No one saw him leave the room, but on the stairs he encountered Collie Cates, the comedian.
Cates was minus his make-up.
"Where are you going?" asked Sargent.
"'Sh!" warned Cates. "I'm going to do the trick."
"What trick?"
"Attach the box office."
Sargent caught his breath.
"No?" he softly cried. "Is it worth while?"
"Sure thing! They've got a pretty good house up there. I heard your growl with Merriwell, and I made up my mind to jump."
"See here, Cates, let me in on this. We may be able to raise enough dust to get out of here and strike some place where there's a show for us. Perhaps we can make a team and do turns at the variety houses. What do you say? You can dance, and I can sing. Is it a go?"
"It's a go," grinned Cates. "If we can get enough dust from the box to get to St. Louis, we're all right. Come on."
"Ha! ha!" laughed Sargent. "We'll see who gets the best of this, Mr. Frank Merriwell!"
Then they hastily descended the stairs and left the building.