Tom Gallon

“ Timson-Smith.
Ramsey Porter tossed off a glass of champagne with the air of one drinking out of a stage goblet, smacked his lips, and smiled. "Sir, I have been, as one might say, everything by turns and nothing long. Heavy lead has been my line, and other things have come to me on occasion. My Othello has been the talk of provincial audiences; I am told that my Mother Crusoe rocked the house with foolish laughter: I once reached Newcastle as one of the Three Witches. Experience? Heaven forgive me! I have played clown in a circus—and was rolled in a carpet for my pains. ”

“ I have been, for one night at least, playing lead; for one night at least I have tasted of the best; for one night in all his strolling life Ramsey Porter has stood out among men and has been looked upon by the eyes of beauty. ”

“ Leopold Wakerley acted like magic; there was to be a big dinner-party, and after it one of those indefinable functions destined to crowd the rooms and make the guests generally hot and uncomfortable.
Mrs. Timson-Smith was confident of success; at last she had achieved her ambition. It was a far cry that night from Camberwell Green; perhaps Mr. Timson-Smith wished it might have been a smaller cry back again. However, the ordeal had to be faced; he knew that he would have to be pushed into corners, and dragged forth to meet people, and pushed back again ”

“ Can it be possible that my name—and eke my fame—has travelled so far? One never knows; a mere whisper—a breath—will go a long way at times. And that Juno-like creature in the diamonds certainly seemed to recognise me; spoke of my pictures!"
Meanwhile, in the drawing-room below, Mrs. Timson-Smith had gone in great agitation to her son Jack; hurriedly she whispered him:—
"Jack, I am in such trouble. That man—that play-actor—has come." ”

“ With all your money they haven't hesitated to snub you; they only call when they want something for a charity. I tell you, Tim, that if we once get the great Mr. Leopold Wakerley down here, over a week-end, they'll come flocking round us like the pigeons used to when we threw out crumbs and corn in the old back garden at Camberwell Green. Besides, it's done every day; these actors expect it."
"Well, my dear—Marie," said Mr. Timson-Smith, with a gulp, "I suppose you'll have your own way."
"Of course I shall," replied the lady, calmly. ”

“ Leopold Wakerley forgot the letter of apology and never wrote at all. With that our first flying leap is over, and we will leave the young actor-manager going out to dinner, cosily enough, not a mile from his flat.
Our second leap takes us back again to that country wherein the home of the Timson-Smiths was situated. A bleak country part it was, on this night at least—wind-swept and rain-swept—a bad night for a man to be out in. And there was a man out on this night, and in curious language he cursed the fate that had placed him in such a position. ”

“ A simpering, elderly lady on the opposite side of the table first set the ball rolling.
"I really must thank you personally for the great pleasure you gave me in that last part of yours," she gushed. "At the moment when you entered there in the moonlight——"
"Madam," said Ramsey Porter, feeling that at last he had been recognised; "indeed, you mistake. My last performance—wherein I enacted three rôles in one evening—was not in the moonlight. You are confusing me with some lesser man who probably played in a mere farce. ”

“ But—pooh!—that was nothing; I have had them twelve feet in length and on every hoarding."
"Yes, yes—quite so," murmured Mrs. Timson—Smith. She turned to the footman. "Will you take this gentleman to his room?" ”

“ I was the inspector of police, in a fireman's helmet, who arrested the real murderer of the butler; and I had a topical song, as the village inn-keeper in the last act, before changing again to the persecuted hero returning to the home of his ancestors. ”

“ Jack Timson-Smith, coming upon his father suddenly in a corridor. "What's wrong?"
"N-nothing," said Mr. Timson-Smith, with a little sigh. "Only I do hope the man will be all that your mother anticipates. You see, Jack, this is not my way of living at all. I wasn't brought up to it, and I haven't dropped into it, so to speak, as your mother has. However, we'll hope for the best."
It becomes necessary that we should leave the Timson-Smiths for a while and take two flying leaps. The first we take is to the flat of Mr. Leopold Wakerley on the afternoon of Sunday. Mr. ”