One night I said to him as Roland had said to me: "You don't seem like an actor. How did you get into this business?"
"Drifted into it," he said. "Always knew I could act, but was too busy with other things. I had an attack of typhoid in Sydney four years ago which shattered my health. When I was getting better a friend gave me the part of a human monster to play, just to help me pass the time. I made a wonderful hit in it. They wouldn't let me stop. Since then I've never been idle. I haven't any conceit, so they offer me the horrible parts."
"Sydney?" I said.
"I was raised in Australia. I came to America last Fall because there was a wider field for my art."
I put this down in my mind as a lie. I do not know Australia but I suppose they have their own peculiarities of speech, and this man talked good New York.
I asked idly what parts he had played in Australia. He named three or four and I made careful mental notes of them. I thought I had him there.
The next day I consulted old files of an Australian stage paper in the rooms of the Actors' Society. To my chagrin I found his name, Kenton Milbourne listed in the casts of the very plays he had mentioned. I was far from being convinced of his genuineness, however. I wrote to Australia for further information.
Under cover of my meek and gentle air, I continued to watch him close. I could have sworn he was not aware of it, which shows how you may fool yourself. His apparent stupidity still blocked me. But one night when he lifted the tray of his trunk I saw the edge of a book underneath.
"Anything good to read?" I said, picking it up before he could stop me.
A peculiar look chased across his face, which was anything but stupidity. The title of the book was: "The World's Famous Jewels."