ng I'm talking about now. Gray's just been in to see me, to
let me know that she quits at the end of the season. And his Lordship,
too, of course. You're not burdened with a contract, Nance. Perhaps
you'd better think it over seriously for a day or two and decide if it
wouldn't be best--"

"I don't have to," I interrupted then.

"Nance!" he cried, jumping up, as though he'd been relieved of half his
troubles.

"I don't have to think it over," I went on slowly, not looking at the
hand he held out to me. "It doesn't take long to know that when you're
between the devil and the deep sea, you'd better try--the devil rather
than be forced out into the wet."

"What?--you don't mean--"

I knew he was looking at me incredulously, but I just wouldn't meet his
eye.

"My staying with you will do you no good--" was hurrying now to get it
over with--"and it would do me a lot of harm. I think you're right,
Mr. Obermuller; I'd better just go over to where it's warm. They'll be
glad to get me and--and, to tell the truth, I'll be glad to get in with
the Syndicate, even if I can't make as good terms as I might have by
selling that contract, which--like the famous conspiracy you're half
mad about--never existed."

He sat down on the edge of the desk. I caught one glimpse of his face.
It was black; that was enough for me. I turned to go.

"Ah, but it did, Miss Olden, it did!" he sneered.

"I won't believe it on the word of a man that's been in the lunatic
asylum ever since he lost his theater."

"Perhaps you'll believe it on mine."

I jumped. "On yours!"

"Didn't that little bully, when he lost his temper that day at the Van
Twiller, when we had our last fight--didn't he pull a paper out of his
box and shake it in my face, and--"

"But--you could have them arrested for conspiracy and--"

"And the proof of it could be destroyed and then--but I can't see how
this interests you."

"No--no," I said thoughtfully. "I only happened to lump it in with the
contract we haven't--you and I. And as there's no contract, why
there's no need of my waiting till the end of the season."

"Do you mean to say you'd--you'd--"

"If 'twere done, 'twere better it'd be done--quickly," I said
Macbethically.

He looked at me. Sitting there on his desk, his clenched fist on his
knee, he looked for a moment as though he was about to fly at me. Then
all of a sudden he slipped into his chair, leaned back and laughed.

It wasn't a ple