dered if by any chance
Mr. Henshaw would call upon him to do a quadruple transition, hate,
fear, love, despair. He practised a few transitions as he went on to
press his evening clothes in the Patterson kitchen, and to dream, that
night, that he rode his good old pal, Pinto, into the gilded cabaret to
carry off Muriel Mercer, Broadway's pampered society pet, to the clean
life out there in the open spaces where men are men.

At eight the following morning he was made up in a large dressing room
by a grumbling extra who said that it was a dog's life plastering grease
paint over the maps of dubs. He was presently on Stage Four in the
prescribed evening regalia for gentlemen. He found the cabaret set,
a gilded haunt of pleasure with small tables set about an oblong of
dancing floor. Back of these on three sides were raised platforms with
other tables, and above these discreet boxes, half masked by drapery,
for the seclusion of more retiring merry-makers. The scene was deserted
as yet, but presently he was joined by another early comer, a beautiful
young woman of Spanish type with a thin face and eager, dark eyes. Her
gown was glistening black set low about her polished shoulders, and she
carried a red rose. So exotic did she appear he was surprised when she
addressed him in the purest English.

"Say, listen here, old timer! Let's pick a good table right on the edge
before the mob scene starts. Lemme see--" She glanced up and down the
rows of tables. "The cam'ras'll be back there, so we can set a little
closer, but not too close, or we'll be moved over. How 'bout this here?
Let's try it." She sat, motioning him to the other chair. Even so early
in his picture career did he detect that in facing this girl his back
would be to the camera. He hitched his chair about.

"That's right," said the girl, "I wasn't meaning to hog it. Say, we was
just in time, wasn't we?"

Ladies and gentlemen in evening dress were already entering. They looked
inquiringly about and chose tables. Those next to the dancing space
were quickly filled. Many of the ladies permitted costly wraps of fur or
brocade to spill across the backs of their chairs. Many of the gentlemen
lighted cigarettes from gleaming metal cases. There was a lively
interchange of talk.

"We better light up, too," said the dark girl. Merton Gill had neglected
cigarettes and confessed this with some embarrassment. The girl
presented an open case of gold attached to a chain penden