LAURA. Privilege car?
JIM. Had charge of all the pickpockets,—dips we called ‘em—sure-thing gamblers, and the like. Made him rich. I kept sort o’ on the level and I’m broke. Guess it don’t pay to be honest—
LAURA. [Turns to him and in a significant voice:] You don’t really think that?
JIM. No, maybe not. Ever since I married the missis and the first kid come, we figured the only good money was the kind folks worked for and earned; but when you can’t get hold of that, it’s tough.
LAURA. I know.
JIM. Burgess don’t seem to be losing sleep over the tricks he’s turned. He’s happy and prosperous, but I guess he ain’t any better now than he was then.
LAURA. Maybe not. I’ve been trying to get an engagement from him. There are half a dozen parts in his new attractions that I could do, but he has never absolutely said “no,” but yet somehow he’s never said “yes.”
JIM. He spoke about you.
LAURA. In what way? [Rising, stands behind JIM’S chair.
JIM. I gave him my address and he seen it was yours, too. Asked if I lived in the same place.
LAURA. Was that all?
JIM. Wanted to know how you was getting on. I let him know you needed work, but I didn’t tip my hand you was flat broke. He said something about you being a damned fool.
LAURA. [Suddenly and interested.] How? [She crosses.
JIM. Well, Johnny Ensworth—you know he used to do the fights on the Evening Journal; now he’s press-agent for Burgess; nice fellow and way on the inside—he told me where you were in wrong.
LAURA. What have I done? [Sits in armchair.
JIM. Burgess don’t put up the money for any of them musical comedies—he just trails. Of course he’s got a lot of influence, and he’s always Johnny-on-the-Spot to turn any dirty trick that they want. There are four or five rich men in town who are there with the bank-roll, providing he engages women who ain’t so very particular about the location of their residence, and who don’t hear a curfew ring at 11:30 every night.
LAURA. And he thinks I am too particular?
JIM. That’s what was slipped me. Seems that one of the richest men that is in on Mr. Burgess’s address-book is a fellow named Brockton from downtown some place. He’s got more money than the Shoe and Leather National Bank. He likes to play show business.
LAURA. [Rises quickly.] Oh! [Crosses to wardrobe, gets hat; crosses to dresser, gets scissors with intention of curling feathers.
JIM. I thought you knew him. I thought it was just as well to tell you where he and Burgess stand. They’re pals.