the price she paid-第58章

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ng　was　and　how　accidental。　　Said　he：

‘‘Why　do　I　shut　myself　in？　　Because　I'm　what　I　am　a　good　thing；　easy　fruit。　　You　say　that　men　a　hundred　times　bigger　than　I'll　ever　be　don't　shut　themselves　up。　　You　say　that　Mountain；　the　biggest　financier　in　the　country；　sits　right　out　where　anybody　can　go　up　to　him。　　Yes；　but　who'd　dare　go　up　to　him？　　It's　generally　known　that　he's　a　cannibal；　that　he　kills　his　own　food　and　eats　it　warm　and　raw。　　So　he　can　afford　to　sit　in　the　open。　　If　I　did　that；　all　my　time　and　all　my　money　would　go　to　the　cheap…skates　with　hard…luck　tales。　　I　don't　hide　because　I'm　haughty；　but　because　I'm　weak　and　soft。''

In　appearance　Mr。　Crossley　did　not　suggest　his　name。　He　was　a　tallish；　powerful…looking　person　with　a　smooth；　handsome；　audacious　face；　with　fine；　laughing；　but　somehow　untrustworthy　eyesat　least　untrustworthy　for　women；　though　women　had　never　profited　by　the　warning。　　He　dressed　in　excellent　taste；　almost　conspicuously；　and　the　gay　and　expensive　details　of　his　toilet　suggested　a　man　given　over　to　liveliness。　　As　a　matter　of　fact；　this　liveliness　was　potential　rather　than　actual。　　Mr。　Crossley　was　always　intending　to　resume　the　giddy　ways　of　the　years　before　he　became　a　great　man；　but　was　always　so　far　behind　in　the　important　things　to　be　done　and　done　at　once　that　he　was　forced　to　put　off。　　However；　his　neckties　and　his　shirts　and　his　flirtations；　untrustworthy　eyes　kept　him　a　reputation　for　being　one　of　the　worst　cases　in　Broadway。　　In　vain　did　his　achievements　show　that　he　could　not　possibly　have　time　or　strength　for　anything　but　work。　　He　looked　like　a　rounder；　he　was　in　a　business　that　gave　endless　dazzling　opportunities　for　the　lively　life；　a　rounder　he　was；　therefore。

He　was　about　forty。　　At　first　glance；　so　vivid　and　energetic　was　he；　he　looked　like　thirty…five；　but　at　second　glance　one　saw　the　lines；　the　underlying　melancholy　signs　of　strain；　the　heavy　price　he　had　paid　for　phenomenal　success　won　by　a　series　of　the　sort　of　risks　that　make　the　hair　fall　as　autumn　leaves　on　a　windy　day　and　make　such　hairs　as　stick　turn　rapidly　gray。　　Thus；　there　were　many　who　thought　Crossley　was　through　vanity　shy　of　the　truth　by　five　or　six　years　when　he　said　forty。

In　ordinary　circumstances　Mildred　would　never　have　got　at　Crossley。　　This　was　the　first　business　call　of　her　life　where　she　had　come　as　an　unknown　and　unsupported　suitor。　　Her　reception　would　have　been　such　at　the　hands　of　Crossley's　insolent　and　ill…mannered　underlings　that　she　would　have　fled　in　shame　and　confusion。　It　is　even　well　within　the　possibilities　that　she　would　have　given　up　all　idea　of　a　career；　would　have　sent　for　Baird；　and　so　on。　　And　not　one　of　those　who；　timid　and　inexperienced；　have　suffered　rude　rebuff　at　their　first　advance；　would　have　condemned　her。　　But　it　so　chanced　whether　by　good　fortune　or　by　ill　the　event　was　to　tellthat　she　did　not　have　to　face　a　single　underling。　The　hall　door　was　open。　　She　entered。　　It　happened　that　while　she　was　coming　up　in　the　elevator　a　quarrel　between　a　motorman　and　a　driver　had　heated　into　a　fight；　into　a　small　riot。　　All　the　underlings　had　rushed　out　on　a　balcony　that　commanded　a　superb　view　of　the　battle。　　The　connecting　doors　were　open；　Mildred　advanced　from　room　to　room；　seeking　someone　who　would　take　her　card　to　Mr。　Crossley。　　When　she　at　last　faced　a　closed　door　she　knocked。

‘‘Come！''　cried　a　pleasant　voice。

And　in　she　went；　to　face　Crossley　himselfCrossley；　the　‘‘weak　and　soft；''　caught　behind　his　last　entrenchment　with　no　chance　to　escape。　　Had　Mildred　looked　the　usual　sort　who　come　looking　for　jobs　in　musical　comedy；　Mr。　Crossley　would　not　have　risennot　be…　cause　he　was　snobbish；　but　because；　being　a　sensitive；　high…strung　person；　he　instinctively　adopted　the　manner　that　would　put　the　person　before　him　at　ease。　　He　glanced　at　Mildred；　rose；　and　thrust　back　forthwith　the　slangy；　offhand　personality　that　was　perhaps　the　most　naturalor　was　it　merely　the　most　used？of　his　many　personalities。　　It　was　Crossley　the　man　of　the　world；　the　man　of　the　artistic　world；　who　delighted　Mildred　with　a　courteous　bow　and　offer　of　a　chair；　as　he　said：

‘‘You　wished　to　see　me？''

‘‘If　you　are　Mr。　Crossley；''　said　Mildred。

‘‘I　should　be　tempted　to　say　I　was；　if　I　wasn't；''　said　he；　and　his　manner　made　it　a　mere　pleasantry　to　put　her　at　ease。

‘‘There　was　no　one　in　the　outside　room；　so　I　walked　on　and　on　until　your　door　stopped　me。''

‘‘You'll　never　know　how　lucky　you　were；''　said　he。　‘‘They　tell　me　those　fellows　out　there　have　shocking　manners。''

‘‘Have　you　time　to　see　me　now？　　I've　come　to　apply　for　a　position　in　musical　comedy。''

‘‘You　have　not　been　on　the　stage；　Miss''

‘‘Gower。　　Mildred　Gower。　　I've　decided　to　use　my　own　name。''

‘‘I　know　you　have　not　been　on　the　stage。''

‘‘Except　as　an　amateurand　not　even　that　for　several　years。　　But　I've　been　working　at　my　voice。''

Crossley　was　studying　her；　as　she　stood　talking　she　had　refused　the　chair。　　He　was　more　than　favorably　impressed。　　But　the　deciding　element　was　not　Mildred's　excellent　figure　or　her　charm　of　manner　or　her　sweet　and　lovely　face。　　It　was　superstition。　　Just　at　that　time　Crossley　had　been　abruptly　deserted　by　Estelle　Howard；　instead　of　going　on　with　the　rehearsals　of　‘‘The　Full　Moon；''　in　which　she　was　to　be　starred；　she　had　rushed　away　to　Europe　with　a　violinist　with　whom　she　had　fallen　in　love　at　the　first　rehearsal。　Crossley　was　looking　about　for　someone　to　take　her　place。　　He　had　been　entrenched　in　those　offices　for　nearly　five　years；　in　all　that　time　not　a　single　soul　of　the　desperate　crowds　that　dogged　him　had　broken　through　his　guard。　　Crossley　was　as　superstitious　as　was　everyone　else　who　has　to　do　with　the　stage。

‘‘What　kind　of　a　voice？''　asked　he。

‘‘Lyric　soprano。''

‘‘You　have　music　there。　　What？''

‘‘　‘Batti　Batti'　and　a　little　song　in　English‘The　Rose　and　the　Bee。'　''

Crossley　forgot　his　manners；　turned　his　back　squarely　upon　her；　thrust　his　hands　deep　into　his　trousers　pockets；　and　stared　out　through　the　window。　　He　presently　wheeled　round。　　She　would　not　have　thought　his　eyes　could　be　so　keen。　　Said　he：　　‘‘You　were　studying　for　grand　opera？''

‘‘Yes。''

‘‘Why　do　you　drop　it　and　take　up　this？''

‘‘No　money；''　replied　she。　　‘‘I've　got　to　make　my　living　at　once。''

‘‘Well；　let's　see。　　Come　with　me；　please。''

They　went　out　by　a　door　into　the　hall；　went　back　to　the　rear　of　the　building；　in　at　an　iron　door；　down　a　flight　of　steep　iron　skeleton　steps　dimly　lighted。　Mildred　had　often　been　behind　the　scenes　in　her　amateur　theatrical　days；　but　even　if　she　had　not；　she　would　have　known　where　she　was。　　Crossley　called；　‘‘Moldini！　Moldini！''

The　name　was　caught　up　by　other　voices　and　repeated　again　and　again；　more　and　more　remotely。　　A　moment；　and　a　small　dark　man　with　a　superabundance　of　greasy　dark　hair　appeared。　　‘‘Miss　Gower；''　said　Crossley；　‘‘this　is　Signor　Moldini。　　He　will　play　your　accompaniments。''　　Then　to　the　little　Italian；　‘‘Piano　on　the　stage？''

‘‘Yes；　sir。''

To　Mildred　with　a　smile；　‘‘Will　you　try？''

She　bent　her　head。　　She　had　no　voicenot　for　song；　not　for　speech；　not　even　for　a　monosyllable。

Crossley　took　Moldini　aside　where　Mildred　could　not　hear。　　‘‘Mollie；''　said　he；　‘‘this　girl　crept　up　on　me；　and　I've　got　to　give　her　a　trial。　　As　you　see；　she's　a　lady；　and　you　know　what　they　are。''

‘‘Punk；''　said　Moldini。

Crossley　nodded。　　‘‘She　seems　a　nice　sort；　so　I　want　to　let　her　down　easy。　　I'll　sit　back　in　the　house；　in　the　dark。　　Run　her　through　that　‘Batti　Batti'　thing　she's　got　with　her。　　If　she's　plainly　on　the　fritz；　I'll　light　a　cigarette。　　If　I　don't　light　up；　try　the　other　song　she　has。　　If　I　still　don't　light　up　make　her　go　through　that　‘Ah；　were　you　here；　love；'　from　the　piece。　　But　if　I　light　up；　it　means　that　I'm　going　to　light　out；　and　that　you're　to　get　rid　of　hertell　her　we'll　let　her　know　if　she'll　leave　her　address。　　You　understand？''

‘‘Perfectly。''

Far　from　being　thrilled　and　inspired；　her　surroundings　made　her　sick　at　heartthe　chill；　the　dampness；　the　bare　walls；　the　dim；　dreary　lights；　the　coarsely…　painted　flats　　At　last　she　was　on　the　threshold　of　her　chosen　profession。　　What　a　profession　for　such　a　person　as　she　had