Joe bolted.
He had plenty of time—a whole hour. And yet he went along narrow, crowded Royal Street as though a gale were at his back. Sonny might audition for Tony Vaux to-morrow, but to-day the field was clear. Loudspeakers blared in the FKIP building. He rode to the fourth-floor reception-room of blue leather. Stella Joyce and three others of the Sue Davis cast were grouped at the window-seats. With them were Archie Munn and Lucille Borden.
“There’s Joe,” Stella called, as though she had been watching the elevators.
Archie Munn hastened toward the glass-walled studios to the right.
A loudspeaker in the reception-room hammered out FKIP’S program, baseball play by play.
Archie Munn was back. “That’s one worry off Vic’s mind. You had him four miles in the air, Joe. He was flying kites.”
The elevator brought up Tony Vaux and a party of men and women. Tony led them toward the studios.
Joe could feel himself tightening. The clamor of the loudspeaker got on his nerves. Who cared about baseball to-day? How would the audition go? Couldn’t they shut that speaker off?
Wylie, rumpled and wild, burst into the reception-room, stopped abruptly, stared with unseeing eyes at his cast, swung about and went back toward the studios. Almost instantly he was again in the reception-room, this time lugging the brief-case. An elevator carried him down; five minutes later another elevator brought him back. He was talking to himself as he made for the studios.
Joe’s right knee began to tremble. He shifted his weight to the other leg, but the tremor grew worse. His hands were clammy. Was he going to get mike fright? He had to keep up a front. Maybe he ought to talk. Talking might help. He said: “Does it always affect Mr. Wylie that way?”