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Show L, ,, .. it i. ii ii ii ii ii ii ! ii n ii ii ii ti ii ii ir ii ir ii ir ir ti ii ii ii ii ii .r i. ii ,, ,1 ,r . , . ,. ., ,. ., ., ,. .. ,, , , ,, ,, ,, , i .. ,r-ir-ii 1 ii ir i ii ii ii !i ii ii ri rl n ri ri ri r- ri r-n rl r2TnC3 CT3C1I C3 C3 tnCTl CT3 C3 tT3 CTP tT73 tT2 CP CTJ 1 v 1 aXY other man than My) n Lmraw John Kedraond j& A would have been v 7 1 A. agreeably excited " j under the circum- S I stances. i l Any other actor k ) ($) than John Kcd- if&y SsH 8 Kd rnond would have lOnstMOHUuHt paced the rooms of tilUUiUnW the apartment in a state of pleasurable ecstasy. But the tall, gray-haired veteran vet-eran of a thousand notable successes sipped his coffee without a tremor, and there was almost a grim turn to the corners cor-ners of his lips as he read steadily, tossing toss-ing the newspapers from him as he concluded con-cluded each criticism. It was the morning after a remarkable personal success for Kedmond, as well as a healthy, triumph for the producers and thc author of "The Duster." At the conclusion of the second act Kedmond had been industriously cheered and had responded with a thirty-word speech of thanks. The author had bowed before the footlights foot-lights in a state of pallid imbecility and all went merry as a wedding bell. Kedmond had been a star for so many years that he disliked looking back. Success had. come to him and with generous hands poured fainemoney and position into his lap. Great authorities had compared him with the names that shine lustrously in the annals of American Amer-ican drama. In spite of his renown, Redmond's private pri-vate life was almost a closed book to all but a few intimates, and the hungry press agent passed it by respectfully. Never in the papers did there appear , articles telling of the Kedmond motor cars, his country home, or the actor's remarkable re-markable fendness for broiled mushrooms. mush-rooms. It was known that ho preferred seclusion, seclu-sion, so far as his private life was concerned, con-cerned, and his wishes were regarded. A hundred times in the past the star had read the morning papers, and very few wore the times his play had been written down a failure. Even on such occasions Redmond's acting" had been praised, if his vehicle had been weak, and now that "The Duster" Dus-ter" was hailed as a success he was satisfied, satis-fied, but neither excited nor overjoyed. The hpt, buoyant pleasure over good work and its appreciation was a sensation sensa-tion denied the actor. Tli ere was one small note running through the various critical comments t rr. t disturbed Redmond. In reality it iv levied to such an unimportant phase of thc previous evening's work that the actor's slight displeasure was without good cause. In the second act of "The Duster" Redmond, clad in a. red sweater, appeared ap-peared in xhv gymnasium and for several momenta disported himself with a pair of brightly colored Indian clubs. "Mr. lledmond." .-aid one critic, "no l'ingr-r has th" nhysiqr.e of an athlete. 11 is age and o'."vious lack of muscularity almost make this one scene ridiculous." Afic-r he had read this comment Ked- mond put down his coffee cup and frowned. "The fool," he remarked somberly. "What docs he know of athletes?" But whether the particular' critic knew of athletes or did not know, other criticisms pointed to the gymnasium scene in disapproval. The scene was important in its bearing bear-ing upon that part of the plot immediately immedi-ately following, and therefore it could not be eliminated. For some time after he had finished with the papers Redmond lounged in his easy chair, thinking of the one fault in "The Duster." Something about the tiny jab of complaint com-plaint irritated him. If they had accused him of slovenly'acting or remarked that he was not convincing in the character, he would have laughed at them, but the covert sneer at his physical state hurt him. He had always lived a clean life and had been fond of athletics. He had boxed in his younger days, played tennis and had manipulated the dumb-bells every morning for thirty years. The bell in a far-off door rang gently, and presently one of the hotel attendants stood before him with a card in his hand. Visitors were not casually announced to John Redmond. He disliked them on general principles. "The young man insisted," explained the servant. "I don't know him," replied the actor, fingering the card incuriously. He paused for a moment, and then: "Send him up," he said. "I feel like talking to somebody this morning." The man disappeared and a few moments mo-ments later a young man, 20 or 21 years old, apparently, came Into the apartment, apart-ment, his hat in hand and a friendly smile upon his face. "I am George Halsey, Mr. Redmond," he began. "I know that you don't approve ap-prove of visitors, and I'm not going to bother you long. I've been reading what the newspapers say about you this morning morn-ing and I want to add my personal congratulations. con-gratulations. It must be a wonderful thing to have your gift." Redmond smiled. "I have worked hard, young man," he said. "Sit down." "You have been successful, too," Mr. Halsey answered. AYhcn he smiled there was a good-natured geniality about his face that reached out to his host. "I suppose you have read so many complimentary things about your acting that it's an old story," the young man ventured. Redmond nodded. "That's the funny part," Halsey. said, a trifle whimsically. "I suppose I've worked as hard as you have, for a shorter short-er time, and I suppose, when the years roll around, I'll be more weary of my work than you, but the newspapers will never tell me what a great man I am not if I live to be a million. It's the difference dif-ference between being a genius and a dub." "What do you do?" Redmond asked with some interest. "I'm in vaudeville, but vaudeville isn't excited over me," the younger man b rib dh E5H5dSZ5d5d5dbd5db cib tLb dh cib h th laughed. "I'm, usually on the bill after the overture, while the people are coming com-ing down the aisle, and if I'm not paid the smallest salary it has to be a mighty poor act that beats me out." "We're in the same business, then," Redmond said. "You entertain the public pub-lic and I also try to." "Which is one way of putting it, Mr. Redmond. Maybe it's impossible for you to understand the craving in a young fellow for just what you are getting and for which you don't care a whoop. "I'd give my right leg for just one bit of regular newspaper praise from a regular reg-ular dramatic critic. I'd give the other leg to have my name known and have people think of ire as a big man, who has arrived at the top of his profession. "I suppose it was that feeling, as much as any other, that led me to break your rules and come prancing up here this morning. I wanted to see what a man looked like who has such a grip upon the public and the press as you have." "You make me blush," Redmond answered an-swered with a laugh. Nevertheless he was pleased with the young man's evident evi-dent sincerity. Halsey rose and walked toward a window win-dow at the opposite end of the room. The elder man watched him and -noted the grace of his movements, the breadth of his shoulders and the general air of fitness fit-ness about him that marks the well bred animal. "He's well put together," Redmond said to himself; then aloud he said: "I forgot to inquire the nature of your act in vaudeville. What do you do?" Halsey laughed and pointed to one corner of the room. "There are the implements im-plements of my trade," he replied. . ' Redmond looked over to the corner where stood several sets of ordinary Indian In-dian clubs. One pair Redmond had owned ' for years and had swung in a desultory sort of way, but the other and heavier pair he had bought after "The Duster" went into rehearsal and had worked diligently with them, with the results sarcastically noted in the morning newspapers. "I'm just a plain, dub club swinger," Halsey continued. "I can also juggle rubber balls, roll hoops and perform simple sim-ple sleight-of-hand tricks. One summer I clowned with a circus. I presume I'm a better club swinger than anything else." While he spoke Halsey had picked up a pair of the clubs and for a moment or two flipped them lightly about his head. "Go ahead," said Redmond. "Let's see what you can do. Halsey grinned with genuine pleasure and for a few moments exhibited the qualities of his art. As he manipulated the clubs Redmond reflected. "You're good, young man." the actor commended. "If it isn't impertinent, how much do you receive weekly for the act?" ' ' Fort y d ol 1 a rs i n a nd aroun d New York; thirty-five on the outside. Sometimes Some-times 1 work three a day and sometimes four. It's a gay life." "Would you lake a job at seventy-five a week?" Redmond continued. "1 certainly would," Halsey answered in some wonderment. "Where and for how long?" "Indefinitely. 'The Duster' seems to have tickled the popular fancy, so I presume pre-sume it will run a year, here and on the road. If you noticed, the critics united in calling attention to the badness of my club swinging in the gymnasium scene. It is a blow to my pride, I will admit, because-1 have hitherto held a very good opinion of my ability. "The idea I have in mind is for you to take my place on the stage for the several sev-eral minutes of that scene and improve it. You can swing clubs and I can't. You look enough like me, in a general way, to make up so that the audience will be none (the wiser, and the pay is generous, considering the brevity of the work and the fact that we play but one matinee a week." "Do you mean it!" Halsey exclaimed. "Naturally I mean it." "Of' course I accept," the club swinger said delightedly. "It's almost too good to be true. But can I make up sq " "My valet is a wizard," the actor responded. re-sponded. "He w'ill make you look so exactly ex-actly like me that you won't know yourself. your-self. And now-, if you'll excuse me, I'll write some pressing letters. Call at the theater at 2 this afternoon and we will go over the details." Thereafter "The Duster" was a thing of utter perfection, and the most hidebound hide-bound critic could find no fault with the club swinging scene. One of the critics who had called attention at-tention to Redmond's muscular inefficiency ineffi-ciency on the opening night dropped in casually for half an act and again beheld the flying clubs. He rubbed his eyes In amazement. It seemed to him a miracle that a man could so vastly improve in such a brief time, but it did not occur to him that the club swinger was George Halsey and not John Redmond. As tie actor had said, his valet was a wonderful artist with a make-up box. The audiences found especial joy in the club swinging young man and applauded ap-plauded him with unstinted vigor at the end of his brief nightly appearance. Halsey was not called upon for a solitary sol-itary word of speech during his short stunt, but he managed to throw a heap of enthusiasm into the work, and again the spirit of unrest and discontent seized John Redmond. The abounding health and plain virility viril-ity of the younger man irked him, and as he stared moodily at his understudy the irony that lay in the startling similarity of their appearance was distasteful. It was as though Redmond were glaring glar-ing into a mirror at himself and that the mirror had the power to change his reflection re-flection to make him young again. And worst of all the thing that hurt Redmond was that George Halsey made him think,- in spite of himself, of the woman he had driven from his side when things were very different and the world was much younger. That had been a sealed book for many years. He never spoke of it and he never nev-er thought of it. Few people knew of it, and that this strange yoking man, coming suddenly into his life, should drag forth memories of the past angered the actor and drove away his u&ual good humor. A month passed. "I'm going to get rid of him," he finally decided. "If I spoil the part myself, let it be spoiled. I won't have him around, and I'll pay him enough so that he can't complain. Let him go back to his circus stunts, but he will irritate me no longer." After reaching that definite conclusion Redmond delayed the act itself. Night after night he, came to the theater fully determined to discharge his club swinger, swing-er, and night after night he hesitated. ' In the quiet of his dressing-room his thoughts continually jumped back through the years, and he saw himself again as a youthful enthusiast on the stage, with everything to learn and a fair future before him. lie, too, had been7 in vaudeville in those early, happy days, and with him had been his wife and the man who made up the trio. What had happened to Redmond has happened before and will happen again. Jealousy fastened its fangs upon him and he began to watch Mary Redmond's every action. That she was growing fond of the other man there seemed to Redmond Red-mond no doubt at all, and he bore his torture in secret until he thought he would go mad. Their act a melodramatic little sketch had been going very well. Kedmcnd and Mary had been married less than three years, and until the time when jealousy first seized him he and Mary had lived more than happily. Suspicions and doubts gave way to certainty in Redmond's mind that his wife no longer cared for hira and that the other man was to blame. He never found a definite cause for his anger, for the very good reason that there never had been a cause. Redmond had been a jealous husband, which is something that requires no evidence. In a fit of rage one night he accused his wife of wrongdoing and drove her from him, dumb with fear, grief and astonishment. as-tonishment. It had come to her like a lightning flash. The sketch was destroyed on the spot, and. Redmond disappeared.. When he came again before the public it was with a second-rate traveling company com-pany in England, and Mary Redmond went out of his life completely. She never returned to the stage. That, briefly, was the story the actor had tried to bury beyond the reach of memory. As he had grown older in years and experience he regretted at times the haste of his action, but what was done was done. "The Duster" played a matinee every Thursday, and it was during the afternoon after-noon performance that the star decided he would wait until the evening performance per-formance ended and with it would end the activities of George Halsey. . Unconscious of his impending doom and wholly unsuspecting the irritation he as causing in the mind and heart of his jmployer, the young club swinger went cheerfully at his task and received his usual amount of applause. He returned as usual to his dressing-room dressing-room and started slowly to change to street clothes. A few moments afterward, Kedmond, facing his task grimly, pushed open the door and entered. Halsey looked up in some astonishment. He was standing before his mirror and had just pulled the red sweater over his head. The white skin of his shoulders and chest; gleamed in the flickering light, and the muscles stood out cleanly in little round pads. A well trained prize fighter would have . envied his physique and perfect condition. "I've come in to say," Redmond began as brusquely as possible, "to say that ' that " He stopped as though his powers of speech had abruptly failed him. Halsey was leaning slightly against the edge of his table, half smiling and wondering at the same time at the unexpected un-expected visit. "Yes," he said questioningly. Kedmond continued to stare without speaking. His eyes were fastened upon the younger man's naked chest as though he were hypnotized. He saw there a blood-red half moon, no larger than the rim of a silver dollar. It was in the exact center of Halsey's breast, and it showed with startling distinctness against the white skin. For a full minute the older man gazed fixedly. Then he spoke again. , . "I've come in," he went on huskily, "to say that you are doing unusually unusually well with your little part in 'The Duster.' I want to thank you." t - Then Redmond turned quickly and the door shut behind him with a sharp bang. Halsey remained motionless, staring after the actor. The star went through the remainder of the performance like a man who is only partly conscious. The audience and the cast noticed his queer actions and the stage manager inquired solicitously. "I'm a trifle dizzy," Redmond explained. ex-plained. "It is only temporary, I am sure." He drank the brandy they gave him and the play came to an end without any untoward mishap. Again in his dressing-room Redmond looked at his face. It was white as chalk, and his hands trembled as he unfastened his garments. "It can't be possible." he said in a voice that sounded unlike his own. But he knew, in spite of his words, that it was possible, and that the white-skinned youngster was his son. He had recognized recog-nized it as suddenly ns the electric flash over an inky sea, and once recognizing it he could see his own features reproduced in the boy called Halsey. The youngster had the Redmond nose and the Redmond eyes and The veteran actor slowly unfastened his shirt and glanced into the mirror, his eyes upon a blood-red half moon that stood out sharply upon his skin. It was no larger than the rim of a silver dollar. |