Photoplay (May 1921)

30 Photoplay Magazine The tension of his anxieties passed as swiftly as it came. Certainly it made no impress on his singing. As the dawn pink lights of tlie theater's dome merged into amber and ebbed back into carmine the Armorer's Song from Robin Hood rang out limpid clear. And after it came the same gratifying rounds of applause, starting like a merry crackling fire in the two dollar a seat magnificence of the orchestra, rolling with increasing ■v igor up through the balconies to break into the din of a forest fire in a hurricane across the gallery. The world was his as Toscha bowed grandly and exited right, keeping carefulh' to the center of the foUcnving spotlight. He paused in the wings that he might drink down the last tiii>" distant clap in ihe ajipreciation of h's mmiber. Now to be out and gone again. There was to be a most interesting rendez\ ous about the table at Strunsky's that evening. Dressed for the street once more, Toscha paused on the th resh old of his dressing room. There was something that he must attend to. Nov\^ what was it? Dreadful, this perplexity! When he should be famous and rich he must have a secretary always at his ell)ow. He must speak of things when they occurred to him and have them out of the way of the course of genius. What was it he must do now? His hands absentmindedly strayed to his pockets. He felt there a ticket. What had he pawned today? Oh, abomination! A ticket to the theater of course. It had cost his last fifty cents and now he must see the director and get an order on the box office. A scowl of unhapi>iness swept over the great bland features of Toscha. Always he was seeing that good-hearted but sharpspoken director about money. But unhappily the director was out. Toscha paced the back-stage halls. WOe upon woe, the director did not return. Stage hands and electricians hurried about shutting down the machinery of the theater. Janitors, scrub women and mechanics came in and went about their tasks in the regular nocturnal roinid of cleaning and repairing the great auditorium, each in his separate little zone of portable lights, nio\ ing up and clown the rows ui)on rows of seats and \ istas ()l aisles. Toscha went to the stage aoor and i^eered out. Sadoff'> ':ollector was still there on ^•igil, munching a sandwich and api)arently uncomfortably ready to spend the night waiting if need be to fasten u])on the hapless debtor. The singer released a great dramatic sigh. He went to the front exit, stumbling o\ er a tangle of mops and brooms in the sub-foyer. The laundry-man's collector was on guard out there. It was a grim hour of desperation. Toscha Emanuel was in a state of siege. Only strategy could a\ ail. The nighl watchman entered, his electric flashlamp in hand, and tossed his overcoat and hat on the back of a seat. Jt was time for him to ring-in on the report boxes, and he went oil on his rounds. Toscha regarded the coat and hat for a full thoughtful moment. Inspiration seized him. He tossed off his great fin lined overcoat with the rich marten collar, that self-same coat for which Mr. L. Sadoff wished so earnestly to collect. On lop of it he deposited his wide-brimmed and iioetically swee])ing l)lack hat of deepest \elour. A moment later Toscha stepped out boldly from the stage door and walked past Sadoff's collecliii-, clad in the watchman's coat and hat. I hy Normdn Anthony IF WE OBEYED THAT IMPULSE What we d do t., th man behind us who reads all the titles aloud The disguise had worked. Toscha's heart grew light in . flash. He started softly to whistle a snatch from La Boheme a he emerged from the alleyway into the side street. Who was that! A large and husky person of menacing bearing bore dowi upon him. Toscha turned aside to avoid the man. "Hold on there. Stand where you are, bud !" The \ oice wa not threatening. It was merely very definite. Toscha stopped with his heart in his mouth. "All right. Tim." The man was speaking to some one \er; like him l)ack in the shadows. The second man came forward' "\\ ho aie } ()u, bud.-'" The first man was addressing hiiiij Toscha was trembling ani: cold with puzzled appreher sion. "I am Toscha Emanuc I sing by the theater." Hi \'oice was much shaken. "You look it," grimly ol served thequestioneer,lool^ ing up and down at th' rough hat and sadly wor coat in which Emanuel w; arrayed. "Th' show w; over an hour ago." "Fan him for a gat, Tim. Timothy Dwyer, i)laii clothes man of the Tende loin police station detai came forward in executic of orders and laid hands c the quaking figure of Ema: uel. Any one else tha Emanuel would have take one look at Dwyer's shcx and recognized him for city detecti\e. With deftness bespeaking mut performance he went fee ing over the i^risoner's ana omy with a firm penetratii touch calculated to reve the presence of conceaU weapons. "Here it is." The dete tive W'ith a quick motic slipped his hand into tl side pocket of the watc man's coat, snatched a bit steel something from it ar dropi^ed it into his ow pocket. All this meant nothing tf) the wildl\ alarmed Toscha Ema uel. He was far too excited to notice that the watchman pistol had been found on him and he had never so much ; heard of the Sulli\an law which made it a felony and statt prison offense to be found in possession of such a weapon, any one had mentioned the Sulli\-an law to him he would ha' thought at once of Gilbert and Sullivan of Pinafore fame. Emanuel was dazed and desperate in the certainty that l' creditors had at last laid \ iolent hands upon him. whether I the law of this amazing country or otherwise he did not kno' Over at a yellow jiainted box on an iron post the other detv ti\e was talking into a telejihone. "Hogan calling, send t \iagon to Forty-second and Broadway." So. it came that Toscha P^manuel, musician and schola artist and exquisite, was taken in the first night's dragnet the annual crusade of the Police Commissioner for gunmen ai first page publicity. "Crime Wave Must Cease," the headlin thundered. Therefore Toscha Emanuel went to jail. The swift and jolting ride to the police station gave Emanu time to recover a ^■ery little of his self-control. There he foui himself one of many in a strangely mixed group of ruffians high and low degree, arrayed before the desk sergeant in shiij slee\-es and blue uniform vest, olificially busy writing in th] fateful book of travesty and tragedy known as "the blotterl "What's your name?" Toscha was looking amazedly about, -wonder mingled wit horror. In the street he would have passed the indi\ iduals , that crowd without an impression. In ensemble against tl desperate severity of that hard grey {Continued on page 9<