Fillmore had the air of a man who thought it wasn't loaded. A wild,startled expression had settled itself upon his face and he wasbreathing heavily.
"Cheer up!" said Sally. Fillmore jumped like a stricken jelly. "Tell meall," said Sally, sitting down beside him. "I leave you a gentleman oflarge and independent means, and I come back and find you one of thewage-slaves again. How did it all happen?"
"Sally," said Fillmore, "I will be frank with you. Can you lend me tendollars?"
"I don't see how you make that out an answer to my question, but hereyou are."
"Thanks." Fillmore pocketed the bill. "I'll let you have it back nextweek. I want to take Miss Winch out to lunch."
"If that's what you want it for, don't look on it as a loan, take it asa gift with my blessing thrown in." She looked over her shoulder atMiss Winch, who, the cares of rehearsal being temporarily suspended, waspractising golf-shots with an umbrella at the other side of the stage."However did you have the sense to fall in love with her, Fill?"
"Do you like her?" asked Fillmore, brightening.
"I love her."
"I knew you would. She's just the right girl for me, isn't she?"
"She certainly is."
"So sympathetic."
"Yes."
"So kind."
"Yes."
"And she's got brains enough for two, which is the exact quantity thegirl who marries you will need."
Fillmore drew himself up with as much hauteur as a stout man sitting ina low chair can achieve.
"Some day I will make you believe in me, Sally."
"Less of the Merchant Prince, my lad," said Sally, firmly. "You justconfine yourself to explaining how you got this way, instead of takingup my valuable time telling me what you mean to do in the future. You'velost all your money?"
"I have suffered certain reverses," said Fillmore, with dignity, "whichhave left me temporarily... Yes, every bean," he concluded simply.
"How?"
"Well..." Fillmore hesitated. "I've had bad luck, you know. First Ibought Consolidated Rails for the rise, and they fell. So that wentwrong."
"Yes?"
"And then I bought Russian Roubles for the fall, and they rose. So thatwent wrong."
"Good gracious! Why, I've heard all this before."
"Who told you?"
"No, I remember now. It's just that you remind me of a man I met atRoville. He was telling me the story of his life, and how he had made ahash of everything. Well, that took all you had, I suppose?"
"Not quite. I had a few thousand left, and I went into a deal thatreally did look cast-iron."
"And that went wrong!"
"It wasn't my fault," said Fillmore querulously. "It was just mypoisonous luck. A man I knew got me to join a syndicate which hadbought up a lot of whisky. The idea was to ship it into Chicago inherring-barrels. We should have cleaned up big, only a mutt of adetective took it into his darned head to go fooling about with acrowbar. Officious ass! It wasn't as if the barrels weren't labelled'Herrings' as plainly as they could be," said Fillmore with honestindignation. He shuddered. "I nearly got arrested."
"But that went wrong? Well, that's something to be thankful for. Stripeswouldn't suit your figure." Sally gave his arm a squeeze. She wasvery fond of Fillmore, though for the good of his soul she generallyconcealed her affection beneath a manner which he had once compared,not without some reason, to that of a governess who had afflicted theirmutual childhood. "Never mind, you poor ill-used martyr. Things are sureto come right. We shall see you a millionaire some day. And, oh heavens,brother Fillmore, what a bore you'll be when you are! I can just seeyou being interviewed and giving hints to young men on how to make good.'Mr. Nicholas attributes his success to sheer hard work. He can lay hishand on his bulging waistcoat and say that he has never once indulged inthose rash get-rich-quick speculations, where you buy for the rise andwatch things fall and then rush out and buy for the fall and watch 'emrise.' Fill... I'll tell you what I'll do. They all say it's the firstbit of money that counts in building a vast fortune. I'll lend you someof mine."
"You will? Sally, I always said you were an ace."
"I never heard you. You oughtn't to mumble so."
"Will you lend me twenty thousand dollars?"
Sally patted his hand soothingly.
"Come slowly down to earth," she said. "Two hundred was the sum I had inmind."
"I want twenty thousand."
"You'd better rob a bank. Any policeman will direct you to a good bank."
"I'll tell you why I want twenty thousand."
"You might just mention it."
"If I had twenty thousand, I'd buy this production from Cracknell. He'llbe back in a few minutes to tell us that the Hobson woman has quit: and,if she really has, you take it from me that he will close the show. And,even if he manages to jolly her along this time and she comes back, it'sgoing to happen sooner or later. It's a shame to let a show like thisclose. I believe in it, Sally. It's a darn good play. With Elsa Dolandin the big part, it couldn't fail."
Sally started. Her money was too recent for her to have grown fullyaccustomed to it, and she had never realized that she was in a positionto wave a wand and make things happen on any big scale. The financing ofa theatrical production had always been to her something mysteriousand out of the reach of ordinary persons like herself. Fillmore, thatspacious thinker, had brought it into the sphere of the possible.
"He'd sell for less than that, of course, but one would need a bit inhand. You have to face a loss on the road before coming into New York.I'd give you ten per cent on your money, Sally."
Sally found herself wavering. The prudent side of her nature, whichhitherto had steered her safely through most of life's rapids, seemedoddly dormant. Sub-consciously she was aware that on past performancesFillmore was decidedly not the man to be allowed control of anybody'slittle fortune, but somehow the thought did not seem to grip her. He hadtouched her imagination.
"It's a gold-mine!"
Sally's prudent side stirred in its sleep. Fillmore had chosen anunfortunate expression. To the novice in finance the word gold-minehad repellent associations. If there was one thing in which Sally hadproposed not to invest her legacy, it was a gold-mine; what she had hadin view, as a matter of fact, had been one of those little fancy shopswhich are called Ye Blue Bird or Ye Corner Shoppe, or something likethat, where you sell exotic bric-a-brac to the wealthy at extortionateprices. She knew two girls who were doing splendidly in that line. AsFillmore spoke those words, Ye Corner Shoppe suddenly looked very goodto her.
At this moment, however, two things happened. Gerald and Mr. Bunbury,in the course of their perambulations, came into the glow of thefootlights, and she was able to see Gerald's face: and at the same timeMr. Reginald Cracknell hurried on to the stage, his whole demeanour thatof the bearer of evil tidings.
The sight of Gerald's face annihilated Sally's prudence at a singlestroke. Ye Corner Shoppe, which a moment before had been shiningbrightly before her mental eye, flickered and melted out. The wholeissue became clear and simple. Gerald was miserable and she had it inher power to make him happy. He was sullenly awaiting disaster and shewith a word could avert it. She wondered that she had ever hesitated.
"All right," she said simply.
Fillmore quivered from head to foot. A powerful electric shock could nothave produced a stronger convulsion. He knew Sally of old as cautiousand clear-headed, by no means to be stampeded by a brother's eloquence;and he had never looked on this thing as anything better than a hundredto one shot.
"You'll do it?" he whispered, and held his breath. After all he mightnot have heard correctly.
"Yes."
All the complex emotion in Fillmore's soul found expression in one vastwhoop. It rang through the empty theatre like the last trump, beatingagainst the back wall and rising in hollow echoes to the very gallery.Mr. Bunbury, conversing in low undertones with Mr. Cracknell across thefootlights, shied like a startled mule. There was reproac
h and menace inthe look he cast at Fillmore, and a minute earlier it would have reducedthat financial magnate to apologetic pulp. But Fillmore was not tobe intimidated now by a look. He strode down to the group at thefootlights,
"Cracknell," he said importantly, "one moment, I should like a word withyou."
CHAPTER VII. SOME MEDITATIONS ON SUCCESS