in the Park and ordered food to
be brought him. Then, after looking at it with an expression of fixed
animation for half an hour, he paid for it and went home. He let himself
into the boarding-house quietly, having hazy impressions that he was
not popular there, also that it might be embarrassing to encounter
Miss Cornish in the hall; and, after reconnoitering the stairway, went
cautiously up to his room.

Three minutes later he came bounding down again, stricken white, and
not caring if he encountered the devil. On his table he had found a
package--the complete manuscript of "Roderick Hanscom" and this scrawl:

Canby,

I can't produce your play--everything off.

Y'rs,

Tal't P'r.

XI

Carson Tinker was in the elevator at the Pantheon, and the operator was
closing the door thereof, about to ascend, but delayed upon a sound of
running footsteps and a call of "Up!" Stewart Canby plunged into the
cage; his hat, clutched in his hand, disclosing emphatically that he had
been at his hair again.

"What's he mean?" he demanded fiercely. "What have I done?"

"What's the matter?" inquired the calm Tinker.

"What's he called it off for?"

"Called what off?"

"The play! My play!"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't seen him since
rehearsal. His Japanese boy called me on the telephone a little while
ago and told me he wanted to see me."

"He did?" cried the distracted Canby. "The Japanese boy wanted to see--"

"No," Tinker corrected. "He did."

"And you haven't heard--"

"Twelfth," urged the operator, having opened the door. "Twelfth, if you
please, gentlemen."

"I haven't heard anything to cause excitement," said Tinker, stepping
out. "I haven't heard anything at all." He pressed the tiny disc beside
the door of Potter's apartment. "What's upset you?"

With a pathetic gesture Canby handed him Potter's note. "What have I
done? What does he think I've done to him?"

Tinker read the note and shook his head. "The Lord knows! You see he's
all moods, and they change--they change any time. He knows his business,
but you can't count on him. He's liable to do anything--anything at
all."

"But what reason--"

The Japanese boy, Sato, stood bobbing in the doorway.

"Mis' Potter kassee," he said courteously. "Ve'y so'y Mis' Potter kassee
nobody."

"Can't see us?" said Tinker. "Yes, he can. You telephoned me that he
wanted to see me, not over a quarter of an hour ago."

Sato beamed upo