THE BOOM
At this time of day I do not mind publishing the facts. It happened a few weeks after those pillars of the State—Thibaudin and Hazard—disappeared from Paris with a couple of million francs. They were leading the police a pretty dance, and people said, "Ah, they are probably at the world's end by this time!" I used to think to myself how securely a man who had a mind to do so might lie hidden within an hour's journey of the Grand Boulevard. It was really the disappearance of Thibaudin and Hazard that originated my Idea.
I was manager at that period of the Théâtre Suprême, where we were very soon to produce Beauregard's play, Omphale. I descried a way to attract additional attention to our project. I went to see Beauregard one October morning, and gave him a shock. He was breakfasting in bed.
"Bonjour, maître," I said. "Are you too much occupied to talk business?"
"Panage," exclaimed the dramatist, "if you have come to demand any more mutilations of the manuscript, I tell you without parleying that no consideration on earth will induce me to yield. There is a limit; mon Dieu, there is a limit! Rather than cut another line, or substitute another syllable I will put the contract in the fire."
"Dear friend, you have evidently slept ill and are testy this morning," I said. "Compose yourself. I come to exhilarate you with a great scheme."
He still eyed me apprehensively, and to pacify him I made haste to explain, "It has nothing to do with any alterations in the play."
"Ah!" He breathed relief, and dipped his croissant in his cup.
"It is a scheme for booming it."
My host was forthwith genial. A smile suffused his munching face, and he offered me a cigarette.