“But will he find out? I ask you, will he?”
“Of course he will.”
“I don’t see why he should,” said Bill, on whose plastic mind the plan had made a deep impression.
“He won’t,” said Archie, confidently. “This wheeze is for one night only. By the time the jolly old guv’nor returns, bitten to the bone by mosquitoes, with one small stuffed trout in his suit-case, everything will be over and all quiet once more along the Potomac. The scheme is this. My chappie wants his song heard by a publisher. Your girl wants her voice heard by one of the blighters who get up concerts and all that sort of thing. No doubt you know such a bird, whom you could invite to the hotel for a bit of dinner?”
“I know Carl Steinburg. As a matter of fact, I was thinking of writing to him about Spectatia.”
“You’re absolutely sure that is her name?” said Archie, his voice still tinged with incredulity. “Oh, well, I suppose she told you so herself, and no doubt she knows best. That will be topping. Rope in your pal and hold him down at the table till the finish. Lucille, the beautiful vision on the sky-line yonder, and I will be at another table entertaining Maxie Blumenthal.”
“Who on earth is Maxie Blumenthal?” asked Lucille.
“One of my boyhood chums. A music-publisher. I’ll get him to come along, and then we’ll all be set. At the conclusion of the performance Miss—” Archie winced—“Miss Spectatia Huskisson will be signed up for a forty weeks’ tour, and jovial old Blumenthal will be making all arrangements for publishing the song. Two birds, as I indicated before, with one stone! How about it?”
“It’s a winner,” said Bill.
“Of course,” said Archie, “I’m not urging you. I merely make the suggestion. If you know a better ’ole go to it!”