Metcalfe puckered his lips and started to whistle. Dodge glared at him for a second, then almost turned pale under his make-up.
Metcalfe laughed. “Still superstitious, Dodge? Well, don’t take it too hard. Let’s see; to whistle in a dressing room is a sign that the man nearest the door will be whistled out of the company. Isn’t that it?”
But the character man stalked out, slamming the door behind him.
“I guess he took the hint,” Klein said. “To my mind, he is the one bore in the company.”
The call boy’s voice came echoing through the hall:
Klein, who was on near the opening of the act, rose to his feet.
“That’s me! I almost missed my entrance last night. If I get in late this afternoon, Bond will fine me. I’ll talk with you later, Metcalfe.”
He hurried out of the room and down the hall to the stage.
The following night, Saturday, while the stage crew were setting the second act, Klein strolled into the property room for a “side prop.”
“Where’s my decanter?” he asked of the property man, Kingston.
The latter motioned toward a shelf. “Up there. I’ve had a new batch of tea put in it.”
Klein took the decanter and started with it toward the door. At the same time he noticed Kingston placing a new photograph in the silver frame used in the coming act.
Aware of the actor’s apparent interest, the property man said, in a disgusted way: “These fool temperamental actors make me sick. Tanner told me I must change the picture in this frame. I told him to go chase himself, but when Metcalfe came along a few minutes later and asked me to do the same thing—well, I thought I’d better give in and not take chances on makin’ trouble.”
“What is the matter with the photograph?” Klein asked casually.
“That’s what I couldn’t get at,” Kingston returned. “The thing ain’t seen by the audience. If it wasn’t for the director stickin’ to what he calls details, I could just as well have stuck in a sheet of cardboard.”
Klein reflected, watching the man insert a new photograph and toss Delmar’s into a drawer.
“Didn’t Tanner or Metcalfe give any reason why they wanted the change made?” he asked presently.
“Nary a one,” Kingston answered. “Oh, I ain’t been around actors for ten years for nothin’. You got to treat ’em like a bunch of kids. If I didn’t change this picture, and one or the other of the fellows went up in the air over it, Bond would lay me out. You see, I ain’t takin’ no chances.”