Dick nodded understandingly.
“Of course,” he agreed quickly. “What’s your trouble, then? Why don’t you produce it at one of the small theatres?”
Demarest shrugged his shoulders.
“Simply because Buffer and Lane object, and the trust, booking Buffer and Lane’s companies, has lent an acquiescent ear. They absolutely refuse to give me a single date at either place. They say every night is booked for the remainder of the season.”
“What nonsense!” Merriwell exclaimed. “Surely there must be some open nights.”
“Of course there are,” Demarest returned quickly. “But not for yours truly. Don’t you see their game? If they can prevent my appearing in New Haven, they figure that I won’t get a show anywhere, and then they probably imagine that I’ll crawl and let them have the play.”
Dick’s face flushed and his eyes flashed angrily.
“What a lot of sharks they must be!” he exclaimed. “By Jove! I wish you could find some place they don’t control and beat them out at their own game.”
“You can’t wish it any more fervently than I do,” Demarest returned seriously.
“Have you tried the Strand?” Merriwell asked presently.