Part 16 (1/2)
”Nothing of the sort--” began Weldon, when Hummer, with a warning gesture, held his finger to his lips and nodded toward the dressing-room where Lizzie was preparing for the coming of her mistress.
”Cut it, Weldon,” he whispered meaningly. ”I know it's not your money, so what's the use?”
”Not my money? Don't I pay you your salary?”
”Certainly; but I know, and every one else in the company guesses, that you are only the figurehead.”
”The idea!” sputtered Weldon, pompously. ”Don't the bills read: 'Victor Weldon presents Miss Farnum'?--_presents_, mind you.”
Hummer stepped closer a bit, puffed at his cigarette, and motioned toward the dressing-room.
”She's the meal ticket,” he added.
”You mean Miss Farnum?”
”Exactly. She found the angel, not you. If he withdrew his support to-night, you couldn't keep this thing going thirty minutes.”
Weldon dropped into a chair and asked weakly:
”How did you find out?”
”The day you engaged me to incite public interest in your star, I found out who the angel was. I hadn't been hanging around the Casino for nothing. Half a dozen of the newspaper boys know all about his infatuation for her.”
Victor Weldon smiled weakly. ”Every one said you were good at guessing things,” he remarked. ”But listen, Phil. Not a word of this to any one.
Even Miss Farnum doesn't know how things really stand.”
Hummer whistled.
”She don't know Gordon is putting up the money?”
Weldon shook his head.
”And she thinks it is honest recognition of real merit?”
Weldon said nothing.
”My word, what a good story, and I can't print it,” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Hummer, turning toward the door that led behind the boxes to the front of the house. Just as he was about to open it, Gordon pushed it ajar with one quick stroke of his powerful arm, and strode into the green-room.
”Where's Miss Farnum?” he asked brusquely. ”Oh, I thought you were Weldon,” he added, turning abruptly from Hummer.
”This is Mr. Hummer, our press representative,” explained Weldon, coming forward eagerly.
”Ah, the press agent? Very good,” responded Gordon, carelessly turning his back on Hummer.
”Let us say, rather, inciter of public interest,” explained Hummer.
”Paid to get fiction into the papers, and to suppress facts.”
Gordon turned toward him curiously. ”Indeed! And what do you suppress?”