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every bone in my fingers—and I am very strong—was broken. It was as though my hand were in a vise.

“You see, I can take care of myself . . . and Betty’s willing to take the chance, too. I tell you, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime, and we’re all going to jump into it.”

That’s all there was to that. When I spoke to Betty Sargent, she was of the same opinion, so I kept my doubts to myself, but I resolved to be pretty well prepared on the opening night.

*****

There was a record house the next night, to see the second first night of “The Leopard’s Spots.” Seats could not be bought. Those who had them held on to them, regardless of offers, and I could not blame them for it. Seldom has a first night been played up in the newspapers the way this was, and the crowded house was in a thrill of expectant horror . . . a delicious thrill given only to those who feel themselves safe.

I stationed myself in the wings, and had another man stationed on the other side. The play started auspiciously, and as the first act and most of the second went by without any untoward happening, the audience settled into its seats and enjoyed the play, which was a triumph for the author and for Betty Sargent