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“You can do practically anything with a religious show,” said Tinker. “That’s been proved. You can run in gambling and horse- racing and ballys, and you’ll get people into the house, night after night, that think the theatre’s wicked and wouldn’t go to see ‘Rip Van Winkle.’ They do a lot of good, too–religious shows–just that way.”

“I think I’d play it in armour,” Potter continued his thought, still gazing at the ceiling. “I believe it would be a big thing.”

“It might if it was touted right,” said Tinker. “It all depends on the touting. If you get it touted to the tank towns that you’ve got a play with the great religious gonzabo, then your show’s a big property. Same if you get it touted for a great educational gonzabo. Or ‘artistic.’ Get it touted right for ‘artistic,’ and the tanks’ll think they like it, even if they don’t. Look at ‘Cyrano’–they liked Mansfield and his acting, but they didn’t like the show. They said they liked the show, and thought they did, but they didn’t. If they’d like it as much as they said they did, that show would be running like ‘Uncle Tom’s Cabin.’ Speaking of that”–he paused, coughed, and went on–“I’m glad you’ve got the ingenue’s part straightened out in this piece. I thought from the first it would stand a little lengthening.”

Potter, unheeding, dreamily proceeded: “In silver armour. Might silver the hair a little–not too much. Play it as a spiritual character, but not solemn. Wouldn’t make it turgid; keep it light. Have the whole play spiritual but light. For instance, have room in it for a religious ingenue part–make her a younger sister of Mary Magdalene, say, with St. Paul becoming converted for her sake after he’d been a Roman General. I believe it’s a big idea.”

Canby was growing nervous. All this seemed to be rambling farther and farther from “Roderick Hanscom.” Potter relieved his anxiety, however, after a thoughtful sigh, by saying abruptly: “Well, well, we can’t go into a big production like that, this late in the year. We’ll have to see what can be done with ‘Roderick Hanscom.'” He looked at the door, where the Japanese was performing a shrinking curtsey. “What is it, Sato?”

“Miss Pata.”

“Who?”

“Miss Pata.”

A voice called from the hallway: “It’s me, Mr. Potter. Packer.”

“Oh, come in! Come in!”

The stage-manager made a deferential entrance. “It’s about Miss–“

“Sit down, Packer.”

“Thank you, Mr. Potter.” Evidently considering the command a favour, Packer sat. “I saw Miss Lyston, sir–“

“I won’t turn her adrift,” said his employer peevishly. “You see, Mr. Canby, here’s another of the difficulties of my position. Miss Lyston has been with me for several years, and for this piece we’ve got somebody I think will play her part better, but I haven’t any other part for Miss Lyston. And we start so late in the season, this year, she’ll probably not be able to get anything else to do; so she’s on my hands. I can’t turn people out in the snow like that. Some managers can, but I can’t. And yet I have letters begging me for all kinds of charities every day. They don’t know what my company costs me in money like this–absolutely thrown away so far as any benefit to me is concerned. And often I find I’ve been taken advantage of, too. I shouldn’t be at all surprised to find that Miss Lyston has comfortable investments right now, and that she’s only scheming to–Packer, don’t you know whether she’s been saving her salary or not? If you don’t you ought to.”

“I came to tell you, sir. I thought you might be relieved to know. We don’t have to bother about her, Mr. Potter. I’ve been to see her at her flat, this evening, and she’s as anxious to get away from us, Mr. Potter, as we are to–“

The star rose to his feet, his face suffusing. “You sit there,” he exclaimed, “and tell me that a member of my company finds the association so distasteful that she wants to get away!”