The little fellow laughed. His is a creaky, almost silent little laugh; if a spider could laugh he'd laugh that way.
"They're fooling him a bunch or two. Never you mind Obermuller. He's a dead one."
"Oh, he said that you thought they were in with you, but that nothing but a written agreement would hold men like that. And that you hadn't got."
"Smart fellow, that Obermuller. He'd have been a good man to have in the business if it hadn't been for those independent ideas he's got. He's right; it takes—"
"So there is an agreement!" I shouted, in spite of myself, as I leaned forward.
He sat back in his chair, or, rather, he let it swallow him again.
"What business is that of yours? Stick to the business on hand. Get to work on that play with Mason inside. If it's good, and we decide to put it on, we'll pay you five hundred dollars down in addition to your salary. If it's rot, you'll have your salary weekly all the time you're at it, just the same as if you were working, till I can place you. In the meantime, keep your ears and eyes open and watch things, and your mouth shut. I'll speak to Mason and he'll be ready for you to-morrow morning. Come round in the morning; there's nobody about then, and we want to keep this thing dark till it's done. Obermuller mustn't get any idea what we're up to.... He don't love you—no—for shaking him?"
"He's furious; wouldn't even say good-by. I'm done for with him, anyway, I guess. But what could I do?"
"Nothing, my dear; nothing. You're a smart little girl," he chuckled. "Ta-ta!"