CHAPTER XXIII. THE OLD ACTOR'S CURSE.
At last the curtain rolled up and the play began; but there was anything but a good feeling among the actors, and not one of them seemed in first-class form, with the possible exception of Merriwell.
It was remarkable how Frank seemed to cast aside even the remembrance of what had happened and throw himself into the part he was playing.
Watching Merry, Havener observed:
"That chap has the making of a first-class actor in him. He will come out on top, if he sticks to the profession."
When Frank was not on the stage, however, he found enough to worry him.
Old Dan Lee was in no condition to play his part. The old man had proceeded to turn half a pint of whisky down his throat immediately on hearing the box office had been attached, and he was about as near drunk as he could be and keep on his pins.
Cassie came to Frank.
"Can't you do something to stop pop from drinking any more?" she fluttered. "He's got a quart of stuff in his dressing room, and he takes a drink every time he comes off the stage. He'll never get through to the last curtain if he keeps it up."
"How do you know he has the stuff?"
"Why, I watched him—followed him—saw him drinking."
"Does he know you saw him?"
"Yes."
"Then——"
"I went into the dressing room just as he was taking a drink."
"What did he do?"
"Tried to hide the stuff at first."
"But didn't succeed?"
"No, for he was aware I had caught him."
"Then what?"
"He was dreadfully angry."
"He didn't touch you?"
"No; but he swore at me, Frank—he swore at me!"
"It is getting serious."
"Yes, yes, for pop would not think of swearing at me when he is all right. The old wicked glare was in his eyes—his red eyes! Frank, I'm afraid! I know something is going to happen! I've got the feeling—here!"
She pressed her hand to her breast.
Merriwell was more troubled than he showed.
"Don't worry, Cassie," he said. "I'll get after him."
"Find the whisky—take it away! It's the only thing you can do, Frank. Oh, everything is going wrong!"
"You are discouraged, little girl."
"But I know—I know! I have heard the others talking. They all think we'll break up here. It's too bad, Frank, after you put all your money into the company!"
"Don't worry about me, Cassie. I'll pull along all right. Can't throw me down and keep me down. It's the rest of the people I am thinking about. It will be tough for them."
She looked at him earnestly with her sad eyes, made to seem unnaturally large by the lining pencil.
"Do you ever think of yourself?" she whispered. "You always seem to be thinking about others, but never of yourself."
"Of course I think of myself, Cassie."
"Well, you don't seem to, Frank."
Merry watched the old actor. The next time Dan sneaked away to the dressing room, Frank followed. He entered suddenly, and found the old fellow just in the act of taking a drink.
With two swift strides Frank reached the spot where he could snatch the bottle from Lee.
"I am sorry about this, Mr. Lee," said the young manager, reproachfully.
Old Dan clutched at the bottle, choking with disappointment and surprise.
"It—it's mine!" he spluttered.
"Yes, I presume so, but it is bad stuff for you to have just now. You have taken too much already."
"Only just enough to brace me up," whimpered the old actor. "Only a little snifter."
"Only a number of little snifters. You are full now, Mr. Lee."
Old Dan braced up with an attempt to show indignation and dignity.
"Be careful, young man! Won't shtand it! No, shir! Got a right to take a little snifter!"
"I will take charge of this."
"Give it back!" panted the old fellow, advancing on Merry, his trembling hands outstretched. "Let me have it!"
"After the show—perhaps."
"Now, now! I must have it! I'm shick! It's med'cine!"
"It's bad medicine."
"Who told you I had it? I know—I know! She shaw me take a little snifter. She blabbed!"
"Everyone could see you had taken too much. We all knew you had some of the wretched stuff somewhere."
"Not wretched stuff! 'Sgood whisky! I know poor shtuff when I taste it. Tha's all ri'."
"If you don't make a big brace, you'll get down without taking another drop," declared Merry, in great concern.
"Who shays so?" cried the old man, again stiffening up. "I know how much I can hol'. Gimme that bottle!"
"No, sir: you shall not have it."
An angry glare came into Dan's red eyes.
"Will have it!" he fumed. "Gotter have my med'cine! No ri' to take it 'way from me! Cussid girl had to blab! I'll fix her!"
"Don't you dare lay a hand on Cassie!" warned Frank, instantly. "If you do——"
"What 'f I do?"
"You'll be sorry for it!"
"Gimme back shtuff 'n' I won't touch her."
"No! You must play this piece through without another drink. Have a little sense. If you take any more whisky, you will get down, and that will wreck the play. Do you want to do that? Haven't I always treated you right, Mr. Lee?"
The inebriate hesitated, and then he slowly said:
"Yesh, always treated me fine—fine. Gen'leman, Mr. Merriwell—'swhat you are! Never misushed me till now."
"I am not misusing you now, Mr. Lee; I'm simply keeping you from ruining the play to-night. You have cast reason to the winds, and you are proceeding to get drunk as quickly as you can. If you have the least consideration for me, you will hold up here and now."
"All ri'; I'll hold up. Gimme shtuff."
"I will keep that, just to make sure. You can't object, if you really mean to stop drinking."
"Might need just one little snifter more."
"You do not need it, and you must not take it. Come, come, Mr. Lee; I am your friend, and you know it. My head is clearer than yours just now. Trust to me. Let me have this stuff."
"On condishun you'll give it back after show."
"We'll talk about that then. No time to talk now. I must go on again in a minute. Brace up. You are not very steady on your feet. The audience will tumble to the fact that you have been taking something, and I'll be held responsible for giving such a show. They will blame me."
That appealed to the man more than anything else Frank could have said.
"No business to blame you," said the old man, puckering his lip. "You're all ri'; everybody elsh all wrong. I shtick by you, Mr. Merriwell. You gen'leman—'swhat you are! No business to be 'soshyating with lot of bum hamfatters. They ain't 'n your class. Anybody can shee that."
"Then it's all right, Mr. Lee; I'll take care of this whisky."
"Just gimme one more little drop now," pleaded the old man. "You broke me ri' off in middle of drink. Didn't get 'nough to wet my throat. Loshin' my voice. Need something to clear it up."
He was talking huskily, but Frank knew better than to let him get his hands on the bottle again.
"You can show what you are good for by bracing without taking another drink, Mr. Lee," said Frank.
"Not good for anything."
"You may feel that way now, but you are all right. I must go on right away."
Without saying anything more, Merry hurried out of the dressing room and soon hid the bottle of stuff behind some scenery packed in a corner at the back of the stage.
He was not aware that his movements were watched by a pair of treacherous eyes.