Doxey nodded. 'There's nothing like the theatre, you know.'
'What do you mean—there's nothing like the theatre?'
'For money, old chap. Not short pieces, of course, but long ones; only, short ones lead to long ones.'
'I tell you what you'd better do,' said Henry, when they had discussed the matter. 'You'd better write the thing, and I'll have a look at it, and then decide.'
'Very well, if you like,' said Doxey slowly. 'What about shares?'
'If it comes to anything, I don't mind halving it,' Henry replied.
'I see,' said Doxey. 'Of course, I've had some little experience of the stage,' he added.
His name was one of those names which appear from time to time in the theatrical gossip of the newspapers as having adapted, or as being about to adapt, something or other for the stage which was not meant for the stage. It had never, however, appeared on the playbills of the theatres; except once, when, at a benefit matinée, the great John Pilgrim, whom to mention is to worship, had recited verses specially composed for the occasion by Alfred Doxey.