Havener, the stage-manager, came down from his room and entered the office. Haley saw him, and fanned him to approach.
The stage-manager saw at a glance that something was the matter. Barnaby Haley’s dignity was broken. He was angry, disgusted, desperate.
“What is it?” asked Havener.
“It’s blazes!” growled Haley.
“Trouble?”
“Heaps of it.”
“What?”
“Read that.”
Haley thrust the crumpled telegram into Havener’s hand. The stage-manager smoothed it out and read the message. Then he whistled.
“That’s queer,” he observed.