The Idaho Springs siftings-news., 1914-11-21
CHAPTER VII.
Merry Disappears.
tears.

suddenly, as II the earth had swal-
lowed him, Merry disappeared. A
week passed. Grant Oswald. in a
fever of enthusiasm, had begun prepa-
rations for a Broadway production.
He turned vast amount Of responsi-
btlity over to Wentworth, who shoul-
dered it thankfully. 1t kept at arms
length the possibility of dwelling
much with his own thoughts: they
were not cheerful company, and he
was racked by constant anxiety about
Merry. There was not single mo-
ment to spare when he could go into
the highways and byways Of a great
city to search, as he had searched be-
fore when the man was his friend.
He could not delegate the task to
another. He had prepared a tale for
the public of Merry's whereabouts.
Oswald believed the actor was study
ing his part and stood ready to appear
at a moments notice. Enoch went
ahead with the tremendous load of de-
tail that fell upon him, toiling day and
night. while his mind alternated be-
tween terror and hope.
Every day the man was acquiring
traits new to his nature. When
strange accident had tossed before
him the possibility of satisfying his
dearest ambition, conscience entreat-
ed loudly against the theft of another
mans life-work. Every noble instinct
in Enoch made its appeal; his honesty.
his generosity, an innate demand for
fair play, the love of his sister and
f,-i4 a. IL.
ing the lonely hours of the night.
There had been moments when he
would have gladly retraced his steps.
but the die had been cast. He was
like a racer who, by some treacherous
ruse, had pushed aside an opponent
and was close to the goal The intoxi-
cation of applause was beginning to
sound in his ears and the future held
untold possibilities. 1t was too late
to turn back; it would mean the down
fall OF great ambitions and bitter
shame-it might even mean crime. 1t
seemed easier to take the chances.
Occasionally Andrews logged face
flashed back to his memory when he
cried, Il will see what the law can
do to protect a man from theft"
Enoch felt his face blanch at the
thought of it. Many a man had gone
down and out for crime less knavish
than this. But he knew Andrew Merry
well, and he trusted to one trait which
was predominant in the man-his
queer, exaggerated idea of honor.
Day by day his conscience quieted
down, self-confidence took the place of
wavering. and the fear of exposure
seemed to recede. At last he could
look the situation in the face without
flinching. The task of putting on a
theatrical production began to absorb
him completely. He had always
longed for such chance; he had been
storing away ideas he could now uti
liZe, besides he knew New York thor.
oughly, and he had observed for years
the system of producing a play Os.
wald looked on with appreciation as
Enoch put his plans into shape. He
knew how uncommon was the combi
nation of such talents in the same
mantle ability to write virile play
then to stage it with practical skill
and artistic feeling and originality
remarkably strong company was en-.
gagged. Oswald insisted on filling even
the smallest parts with people far
above the level of subordinate actors.
The salary list grew to stupendous
figures. One morning Wentworth re-
monstrated against paying one hun
dred dollars week to an actor who
was to play the janitor.
''Breen is a far bigger man than you
need" he objected. He has played
leads to many of the biggest stars.
We need a mere bit of character work
in this-he isn't on the stage half an
hour can get first-rate man for
half that price"
"Breen can make the janitor so true
to life that the audience will regret
seeing him for only half an hour" Os-
wald rejoined. That's the test OF
quality. When l pay a hundred dol
lars l want a hundred-dollar man."
CTO BE CONTINUED)
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