Page:Phantom-fingers-mearson.pdf/46

bert—” he paused for an instant and looked at Ike significantly.

“What?” asked Ike.

“Oh, nothing, Mr. Humbert,” said Cunningham, “except that I resign my job, that’s all. There’s nothing in the by-laws of the Actors’ Equity Association that says I have to go through this sort of thing to land on Broadway. It’s a pity, too—it was a fat part.”

“Well, I don’t blame you, Wallace,” said Ike. “I’ll give you another good part just as soon as I can, but, you know, this was your own idea.”

“I know. I’m not blaming you, or anyone else. I really thought it wouldn’t happen again, or that if it did I’d be able to handle it. You have no idea what it was like, though . . . nobody could have who hasn’t gone through it,” said Cunningham. “Except maybe you,” he nodded to me.

I nodded in reply. “I know,” I said. “The hand and wrist were like iron.” I turned to Ike.

“What are you going to do now?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Don’t know. Guess I'll have to drop it. Even if I could get actors for the play, I don’t think I’d want to try it, now.”

The voice of Betty Sargent, faint, but calm, came to us over the head of the ring of people, from the outskirts of the crowd.