might give you bubonic plague," Martin said nervously. "Kissing
spreads germs. It's a well-known fact."

"Nick!"

"Well--I don't know--when did you last have a cold?"

Erika pulled away from him and went to sit in the other corner.

"Ah," Martin said, after a long silence. "Erika?"

"Don't talk to me, you miserable man," Erika said. "You monster, you."

"I can't help it," Martin cried wildly. "I'll be a coward for twelve
hours. It's not my fault. After eight tomorrow morning I'll--I'll walk
into a lion-cage if you want, but tonight I'm as yellow as Ivan the
Terrible! At least let me tell you what's been happening."

Erika said nothing. Martin instantly plunged into his long and
improbable tale.

"I don't believe a word of it," Erika said, when he had finished. She
shook her head sharply. "Just the same, I'm still your agent, and your
career's still my responsibility. The first and only thing we have to do
is get your contract release from Tolliver Watt. And that's _all_ we're
going to consider right now, do you hear?"

"But St. Cyr--"

"I'll do all the talking. You won't have to say a word. If St. Cyr tries
to bully you, I'll handle him. But you've got to be there with me, or
St. Cyr will make that an excuse to postpone things again. I know him."

"Now I'm under stress again," Martin said wildly. "I can't stand it.
_I'm_ not the Tsar of Russia."

"Lady," said the cab-driver, looking back, "if I was you, I'd sure as
hell break off that engagement."

"Heads will roll for this," Martin said ominously.

* * * * *

"By mutual consent, agree to terminate ... yes," Watt said, affixing his
name to the legal paper that lay before him on the desk. "That does it.
But where in the world is that fellow Martin? He came in with you, I'm
certain."

"Did he?" Erika asked, rather wildly. She too, was wondering how Martin
had managed to vanish so miraculously from her side. Perhaps he had
crept with lightning rapidity under the carpet. She forced her mind from
the thought and reached for the contract release Watt was folding.

"Wait," St. Cyr said, his lower lip jutting. "What about a clause giving
us an option on Martin's next play?"

Watt paused, and the director instantly struck home.

"Whatever it may be, I can turn it into a vehicle for DeeDee, eh,
DeeDee?" He lifted a sausage finger at the lovely star, who nodded
obediently.

"It's going to have an all-male cast," Erika sai