His Lordship's Leopard: A Truthful Narration of Some Impossible Facts. David Dwight Wells

Banborough bowed low.

      "I hope you'll not think me intrusive," he said, "but I judge that you're not now engaged, and as I'm at present in want of the services of a first-class theatrical company, I ventured to address you."

      "The manager skipped last evening," remarked the man in mufti.

      "Alvy," corrected Mr. Smith, "I will conduct these negotiations. As Mr. Spotts says, sir," he continued, indicating the last speaker, "with a colloquialism that is his distinguishing characteristic, our manager is not forthcoming, and—a—er—temporary embarrassment has resulted, so that we should gladly accept the engagement you offer, provided it is not inconsistent with the demands of art."

      "Oh, cut it short, Tyb," again interrupted the ingenuous Spotts.

      Mr. Smith cast a crushing glance at the youth, and, laying one hand across his ample chest, prepared to launch a withering denunciation at him, when Cecil came to the rescue.

      "I was about to suggest," he said, "that if you've not yet breakfasted you would all do so with me, and we can then discuss this matter at length."

      Mr. Smith's denunciation died upon his lips, and a smile of ineffable contentment lighted up his face.

      "Sir," he said, "we are obliged—vastly obliged. I speak collectively." And he waved one flabby hand towards his companions. "I have not, however, the honour of knowing your name."

      Cecil handed him his card.

      "Ah, thanks. Mr. Banborough. Exactly. Permit me to introduce myself: H. Tybalt Smith, Esq., tragedian of the A. BC Company. My companions are Mr. Kerrington, the heavy villain; Mr. Mill, the leading serious. Our juvenile, Mr. G. Alvarado Spotts, has already sufficiently introduced himself. The ladies are Mrs. Mackintosh, our senior legitimate," indicating the elder of the two, who smilingly acknowledged the introduction in such a good-natured, hearty manner that for the moment her plain, almost rugged New England countenance was lighted up and she became nearly handsome. "And," continued Mr. Smith, "our leading lady, the Leopard—I mean Miss Violet Arminster," pointing to the bewitching young person in the tailor-made gown.

      Each of the members bowed as his or her name was spoken, and the tragedian continued:

      "Ladies and gentlemen of the A. BC Company, I have much pleasure in introducing to you—my friend—Mr. Cecil Banborough, who has kindly invited you to breakfast at—the Murray Hill? Shall we say the Murray Hill? Yes."

      The ensuing hour having been given up to the serious pursuit of satisfying healthy appetites, the members of the A. BC Company heaved sighs of pleasurable repletion, and prepared to listen to their host's proposition in a highly optimistic mood. Banborough, who had already sufficiently breakfasted, employed the interval of the meal in talking to Miss Arminster and in studying his guests. Mrs. Mackintosh, who seemed to take a motherly interest in the charming Violet, and whose honest frankness had appealed to him from the first, appeared to be the good genius of the little company. As he came to know her better during the next few days, under the sharp spur of adversity, he realised more and more how much goodness and strength of character lay hidden under the rough exterior and the sharp tongue, and his liking changed into an honest admiration. Mr. Smith was ponderous and egotistical to the last degree, while Spotts seemed hail-fellow-well-met, the jolliest, brightest, most good-looking and resourceful youth that Cecil had met for many a long day. The other two men were the most reserved of the company, saying little, and devoting themselves to their meal. But it was to Miss Arminster that he found himself especially attracted. From the first moment that he saw her she had exercised a fascination over him, and even his desire for the success of his book gave way to his anxiety for her comfort and happiness. She was by no means difficult to approach; they soon were chatting gaily together, and by the time the repast was finished were quite on the footing of old friends—so much so, indeed, that Cecil ventured to ask her a question which had been uppermost in his mind for some time.

      "Why did Mr. Smith call you the Leopard when he introduced you to me at the station?" he said.

      "Oh," she answered, laughing, "that's generally the last bit of information my friends get about me. It has terminated my acquaintance with a lot of gentlemen. Do you think you'd better ask it, just when we are beginning to know one another?"

      "Are you another Lohengrin," he said, "and will a white swan come and carry you off as soon as you've told me?"

      "More probably a cable-car," she replied, "seeing we're in New York."

      "Then I shall defer the evil day as long as possible," he answered.

      "You seem to forget," she returned, "that I don't know as yet what our business relations are to be."

      "And you seem to forget," he replied, "that there are still some strawberries left on that dish."

      She sighed regretfully, saying:

      "I'm afraid they must go till next time—if there's to be a next time."

      Banborough vowed to himself that instead of confining the advertisement of his book to the city alone, he would extend it to Harlem and Brooklyn—yes, and to all New York State, if need be, rather than forego the delight of her society.

      "Isn't your father an English bishop?" continued Miss Arminster, interrupting his reverie.

      "Now how on earth did you know that?" exclaimed Cecil.

      The little actress laughed.

      "Oh, I know a lot of things," she said. "But I was merely going to suggest that we call you 'Bishop' for short. Banborough's much too long a name for ordinary use. What do you say, boys?" turning to the men of the company.

      A chorus of acclamation greeted this sally, and to the members of the A. BC Company Cecil Banborough was 'the Bishop' from that hour.

      "And now," said the Englishman, "that you've christened me, suppose we come to the business in hand?"

      Every one was at once intently silent.

      "I am," he continued, "the author of 'The Purple Kangaroo.'"

      The silence became deeper. The audience were politely impressed, and the heavy villain did a bit of dumb show with the leading serious, which only needed to have been a trifle better to have proved convincing.

      "Yet," continued the author, "owing to the popular interest in an imminent war and a lack of energy on the part of my publishers, the book doesn't sell."

      "Impossible!" exclaimed Mr. Smith. "Impossible! Why, I was saying only the other day to Henry Irving, 'Hen,' I said—I call him 'Hen' for short—'that book—'"

      "What you say doesn't cut any ice," broke in Spotts. "What were you saying, sir?"

      "I was about to remark," continued Banborough, "that what the novel needs is advertising. For an author to make the round of the shops is so old an artifice that any tradesman would see through it."

      "It is," interjected the tragedian. "I have more than once demanded the lower right-hand box when I was playing the leading rôle."

      "And always got it," added Spotts. The silence was appalling, and Cecil rushed into the breach, saying:

      "It's occurred to me, however, that if a number of people, apparently in different walks of life, were to call at the various bookshops and department stores of the city, demanding copies of 'The Purple Kangaroo,' and refusing to be satisfied with excuses, it might create a market for the book."

      "A first-rate idea!" cried Spotts heartily.

      "But supposing it was in stock?" suggested the more cautious duenna.

      "I shall of course see you're provided with funds for such an emergency," the author hastened to add; "and if you ladies and gentlemen feel that you could canvass the city thoroughly in my interests at—ten dollars a day and car-fares?" he ventured, fearing he had offered too little.

      "I should rather think we do," said Spotts emphatically. "Ten dollars a day and car-fares is downright luxury compared