“You can accomplish anything you wish to accomplish,” said Clensy.
“Possibly so,” was Biglow’s brief reply; then he added, “You see, lad, my business at the palace is peculiarly secret, and I don’t stand on safe ground when I commence to introduce white men into the Court of the Black Republic.”
Clensy looked glum at hearing this, but he looked more cheerful when Biglow ended up by saying, “I’ll think the matter over; p’raps I can see a way of doing the thing.”
That same night Biglow happened to hear Adams performing on a banjo at the Sing-Song Café, hard by their lodgings (Adams was a decent banjo player), and Clensy strumming out melodies and dance-tunes on a derelict piano. So when Biglow met Clensy next day he gave the young Englishman a most contemptuous look, and said, “You! You play the piano like that and yet ask _me_ to get you introduced into the palace society!”
“What on earth has the piano to do with it? How? Why?” said Clensy, mystified.
“Lad, you’re a mug, and though you can’t see farther than the tip of yer nose, you may consider yourself engaged on the spot as Pianist to the President of the Black Republic.”
Clensy, with his usual lack of confidence, began to expostulate and bring forward a hundred reasons to show why such a procedure would be a failure. But Biglow simply gave him another contemptuous glance, and then, pushing his mass of curls from his massive brow, turned on his heel and walked away. Next day, when Clensy returned from a stroll in the town back to his lodgings, Biglow smacked him on the back and informed him that he was engaged as piano-player for the coming presidential ball. The next moment Biglow had handed Clensy twenty Mexican dollars.
“What’s this for?” gasped the astonished Clensy.
“Why, you looney, it’s your advance, a bit on account of your wages!” Then Biglow explained that he had told the President that he, Clensy, was a great musician, the chief Musical Director of the Conservatoire in New York, and that it was a relentless rule of Yankee virtuosos to demand an advance note.
“But I’m not a professional player at all. I can’t play well enough,” said Clensy, as he recovered from his surprise, and looked at the money. “I’m only a strummer on the piano, and they’ll expect to hear some of the classics performed, won’t they?” said Clensy.