At The Hindoo Lantern Mr. Gorry Larrabin and Mr. Judson Flack found themselves elbow to elbow outside the rooms where their respective ladies were putting the final touches to their hats and hair before entering the grand circle. It was an opportunity especially on Gorry’s part, to seal the peace which had been signed so recently.
“Hello, Judson. What’s the prospects in oil?” Judson’s tone was pessimistic. “Not a thing doin’, 249 Gorry. Awful slow bunch, that lump of nuts I’m in with on this. Mentioned your name to one or two of ’em; but no enterprise. Boneheads that wouldn’t know a white man from a crane.” That he understood what Gorry understood became clear as he continued: “Friend o’ mine at the Excelsior passes me the tip that they’ve held up that play they were goin’ to put my girl into. Can’t get anyone else that would swing the part. Waitin’ for her to turn up again. I suppose you haven’t heard anything, Gorry?”
Gorry looked him in the eyes as straight as was possible for a man with a cast in the left one. “Not a thing, Judson; not a thing.”
The accent was so truthful that Judson gave his friend a long comprehending look. He was sure that Gorry would never speak with such sincerity if he was sincere.
“Well, I’m on the job, Gorry,” he assured him, “and one of these days you’ll hear from me.”
“I’m on the job too, Judson; and one of these days––”
But as Mademoiselle Coucoul emerged from the dressing-room and shed radiance, Gorry was obliged to go forward.