ways on the move, there was the never-ending danger of going over.
That decision brought me back to earth again. I looked about me, took my bearings, and resolutely headed for the Asteroid Theater Building. I drifted back down Broadway with a sudden new hope in my heart. The tide had already turned. I kept repeating poor old Bud Griswold's slogan to the effect that it always pays to keep up a good front. For as Bud used to say, I never could be strong on the crape and broken-column business. And I forgot to notice that that tourist's slum known as the Great White Way was as ugly as it had seemed a short half-hour before.
I was quite composed as I sent in my card to the three-carat man, who was alone in his office at the end of a day's work. Then I strolled into the room that was blue with cigar-smoke and confronted the three-carat man in person. His name was Heydt. And he was in his shirt-sleeves.
He smiled as he swung half-way round in his swivel chair. I thought at first that it was a kindly smile.
"So you've come back after that road-company work, eh?" he said, as he relit his well chewed cigar. I noticed that he did not smoke with a dry lip. And
