“What’s the relation, pard?” Buckhart grinned, as he shook hands with the actor. “You sure had me guessing for a minute.”
“Me, too,” put in Rudolph Rose. “It’s the greatest thing I ever saw.”
“None whatever,” Dick explained. “I met Mr. Demarest for the first time this morning, but I can assure you he’s the goods, all right.”
Fitzgerald withdrew his gaze from the ceiling, with a profound sigh of relief.
“Delighted to meet you,” he said fervently, as he clasped Demarest’s hand. “For a moment I had a horrid thought—— However, we won’t dwell on that. Jove! I can’t get used to the two of you yet.”
After everybody had met the stranger, and the crowd settled down to comparative quiet, Dick took the floor.
“We’ve got a ticklish job on hand to-night, boys,” he said earnestly, “and I want your help. Demarest has a dandy play, which he has got to bring out in New Haven. He’s up against the trust, and they won’t let him have a decent theatre, so he’s taken the old Concert Hall. We thought everything was settled all right this afternoon, but now it appears that the trust has a play as nearly like Demarest’s as possible, even to the name, which they are going to shove into the Arcadian on Friday. It’s a put-up job, you see, to give him a frost. They’ve hired Lawford to cover the boards with their bills to-morrow morning, though Demarest had a previous understanding with the fellow that his paper would go up as soon as it was printed. We’ve persuaded the printers to work overtime, and the bills will be ready at midnight. Now, what I want to do is to get them on the boards before daylight. Also every dead wall we can get the privilege on. Catch on?”
“You bet!” exclaimed Fitz joyfully. “You want us to turn billposters.”
“Exactly,” Dick nodded. “How about it?”
“Of course we will!”