They applauded vigorously and were about to drift out with the crowd of candy-eating females and their escorts, when the curtains of the box were parted by a gentleman in evening clothes, who stood smiling, holding his spotless silk hat in one hand and extending the other to Brainard.
“Hello!” the stranger said easily, as if he were greeting a casual acquaintance whom he had not seen for several days. He came forward into the box, and sat on the edge of a chair, dangling his glossy silk hat. “Saw you from behind,” he added, smiling slightly upon Brainard, whose surprise was evident.
“You, Hollinger!” the latter exclaimed, recovering himself. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, in the show business,—same as you,” he added with a little laugh.
“The last time I saw you—”
“Was in that Jalapa hotel where I had the pleasure of delivering a little lecture on life for your benefit,” the fight-trust man supplied. “You profited by it at once—that very night, if I remember rightly. Rarely does a teacher of morals get such a rapid reaction!”
“Yes!” Brainard laughed. “Necessity pointed the moral to your talk with a kick. I left on a mule car, and got away just in time.”
“So Calloway told me the next morning. We tried to keep your friends interested in Jalapa until the boat sailed. I take it that we succeeded.”
“Yes, I owe you a great deal for that good turn.”
“Don’t mention it,” Hollinger murmured, slipping into the chair, “always ready to serve a friend.”