se, as well as by many others who for
three days had seen innumerable pictures of him, Carter was instantly
recognized. To the audience and to the performers the man who always won
was of far greater interest than what for the three-hundredth night was
going forward on the stage. And when the leading woman, Blanche Winter,
asked the comedian which he would rather be, "The Man Who Broke the
Bank at Monte Carlo or the Man Who Can Not Lose?" she gained from the
audience an easy laugh and from the chorus an excited giggle.

When, at the end of the act, Carter went into the lobby to smoke, he was
so quickly surrounded that he sought refuge on Broadway. From there, the
crowd still following him, he was driven back into his box. Meanwhile,
the interest shown in him had not been lost upon the press agent of the
theatre, and he at once telephoned to the newspaper offices that Plunger
Carter, the book-maker breaker, was at that theatre, and if that the
newspapers wanted a chance to interview him on the probable out-come of
the classic handicap to be run on the morrow, he, the press agent, would
unselfishly assist them. In answer to these hurry calls, reporters of
the Ten o'Clock Club assembled in the foyer. How far what later followed
was due to their presence and to the efforts of the press agent only
that gentleman can tell. It was in the second act that Miss Blanche
Winter sang her topical song. In it she advised the audience when
anxious to settle any question of personal or national interest to "Put
it up to the Man in the Moon.'" This night she introduced a verse in
which she told of her desire to know which horse on the morrow would win
the Suburban, and, in the chorus, expressed her determination to "Put it
up to the Man in the Moon."

Instantly from the back of the house a voice called: "Why don't you put
it up to the Man in the Box?" Miss Winter laughed-the audience laughed;
all eyes were turned toward Carter. As though the idea pleased them,
from different parts of the house people applauded heartily. In
embarrassment, Carter shoved back his chair and pulled the curtain
of the box between him and the audience. But he was not so easily to
escape. Leaving the orchestra to continue unheeded with the prelude to
the next verse, Miss Winter walked slowly and deliberately toward him,
smiling mischievously. In burlesque entreaty, she held out her arms.
She made a most appealing and charming picture, and of that fact she was
w