"Sir," he said in repressed tones, for he was really angry and had been accustomed to wield the power of an autocrat in this establishment, "you are placing me in an embarrassing position. I am expected to make every day count, so that the Continental may pay a liberal profit to its owners. To follow your instructions would burden us with an enormous expense, quite useless, I assure you, and—"
"Very well. Incur the expense, Goldstein."
"All right, Mr. Jones. Excuse me a moment while I issue instructions for the postponement."
McNeil rose and faced the manager.
"Are you really going to postpone this important play?" he demanded, in a voice of wonder.
Goldstein was glad to vent his chagrin on the producer.
"No insolence, sir!" he roared. "Come with me, and," as he dragged McNeil to the door and paused there, "if you dare lisp a word of what you've overheard, I'll fire you like a shot!"
When they had left the room Maud said with a puzzled air:
"I can't understand your power over Goldstein, Mr. Jones. He is a dictator—almost a tyrant—and in this place his word is law. At least, it was until you came, and—and—"
"Don't try to understand it, Miss Stanton," he answered in a careless manner. "Do you think you can manage to crawl to the automobile, or shall we carry you?"