The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 7, 1904, Page 1

HIS is the first install- mej “Dr. Xavier:” M mberton’se well known novel of mystery and adventure. The deals with the adventures of Esther \ who, plain of feature. friendless, and in ab- solute want in the maelstrom of London transformed. throng of Dr. Xavier. int« ing beaut lons, and le of royalty. Who Dr. Xavies and what the object almost magical ions with respect to Venn arve, form of mystery which Liold the interest and elements suspense of the reader at high teansion until the final denounement. The story will e published complete, with illustrations, in four installnients. i right by Max Pe A i CHAPTER 1 HE press about E o e theater increased as day wore on; and many of those waiting in front ranks of t e queue gave new-comers and aban- advantage. It was a hot and the sun poured down P e forrid steps of the Strand g dust and the: veno- mous breath of the dreught bore wit- pess o vest place tc their day of July, doned the enduring heat and its har- of flagging energies and leaden steps. The bevy of young girls linger- ing about the stage-door of the Casino av engagemer r the g t amatic spectacle which should Lond ¢ autumn tracted many aspirants. From su- t n purlieus, from offices, from re- parsonages, even from n and th cullery; the be famous AR types, all r n girth and womanhood € observed in the throng. Be- 1others, abandoning hope the threshcld, but too weak to stood elbow.to" elbow with stylish “soubreties™ trained - to - the s and vulgar in their display. Tir t their faces and em med of their mis- wre and there, one frankly wce and oppor- r great desire to “appear,” - belief in a vocation. But t part, a tacit truce of ri- e of ¢ iled. Each knew that the ‘ 2in might -be her loss. The as often for bread. her Venn had arrived at the ther- 1 quarter past ten, and finding already the corridor befdgre © took a place by the iron gates d patiently until she might Tall and countrified and ed, she was at ¢nce rk; and the pgodle patiently upon, the t did not escape some nt from the \ight- Who would have N\ade vith him. Some said, not No- 1t dogs nowadays earn more Y upon the stage than human be- . while one dark-eyed beauty from Clapham expressed the opinion that if justice were done khe would be riding in a carriage with a King Charles spaniel upon her knee. To these and others Esther answered with what kindness she could, that the dog would never leave her: and being strange to London she had thought it would be no harm to take him to the theater—a confession which provoked some merri. ment and not a little instructive chat- ter. so said one *“ youwll Have many things miss, to learn abowt the profession, and no mistake neither! 'Tisn't all what the people in front gee of it, believe me. You -ask Clara over there what they paid her for fourteen calls at the Temple, and notices upon the Saturday. Oh, it was different when I first began. Every young lady:didn't want to play the lead then.and rob poor girls of their daily bread. As true as the Lord's above me, I've been twenty-two weeks waiting for this job, and here I am no better than the rest, and just as likely to walt twenty more.” “Don’t frighten the young lady,” said another, less pessimistic and more vul- gar; “she’s all right, she is—they want ‘talls’ far the front row, and she’s just the height. I could have gone on last May if I'd abin as tall as she is; but there, it's.always something. Come to that, 1 shall drive a chariot at ‘the Folly, and a pretty job, too, at sixteen a week and shout your lungs out. Oh, the profession, what's it coming to, 1 don't know!" “It’s the amatoors as ruins it,” said & substantial lady, who obviously suf- feoed much by reason of the heat. “Just think, my dear, here T am away from home at nine, and eleven o’clock’s gone and my glass of stout with it} What I'm going to do, I really don't know.” She volunteered other information, both about the number of her children and the importance of those occasions upon which she had caused her hus- bflnd to “‘make a distressing appear- ance before a magistrate. Esther Venn, drawing back ashamed for the publicity which was thrust upon her, wondered if titege dreadful people were typical of a London people. resource. ~ Penniless,. friendless, ‘she knew not whither to turn for shelter or for bread. Pride had carried her from her quiet home in EXeter; pride for- bade a return to its inhospitable por- tals. She came to the theater as’ to some final tribunal which would pro- nounce a verdict of the supreme mo- ment. So much she had hoped of it, so greatly believed those fabulous talés of its opportunities. and rewards. And now she stood in this vulgar company, where every word jarred upon a sensi- tive ear, and the rougeéd cheeks, the brazen gestures and the laughing pen- ciled eyes spoke of a world cf which she had not even dreamed. Vain er- rand, indeed; London’s solitude was more Kind than this place or blank'de- spair. Esther would have drawn back even then had the throng permitted. But the erowd was too deep and firmly wedged in the narrow passage. A com- missionaire had all he could do to maintain even a littlé discipline _in those serried ranks, theater and She had gone there as a last its “Come, young ladies,” he sald, kind-. ly enough, “pushing won't help you, don't you think it will. First come, first served; that’s our motto, The theater wop't run aw g0 there's no need for you to lobk so sharp aftet S back ‘there and keep quiet, will jast’ ‘words wére addressed in ¢ (0 a forward girl in the , who related at quite un- gth and in an ant voice the precise ¢ vhich had induced her to re- part of principal boy in a pantomime, The difference of opinion was at its | ht when the door at the end of the corridor opened and shut very qu a slender girl eding- cum- try passing out with vant step, the commissionaire astonished Esther by touching her upon the shoulder, and saying: “Your turn next, miss.” She had waited long for this sum- mons; hut now when the ordeal was at hand and all must be won or lost in one deciding moment, tRe rashness of her act and the improbability of suc- cess robhed her of that little self-pos- session which remaized to her. She followed the commjssionaire with fal- tering step, vainly racking her trgubled head for word or story which should help her in such a dilemma. Of thea- trical management she knew nothing— her knowledge of the stage was such as she had learned from irayeling com- panies as a’ spectator in a provincial theater. The dim splendor, the tawdry pretentiousness of yhe stage which she now crossed revealed o her the'draped mysteries of an unknown kingdom. It seemed to Esther that she went down into some pit, where the walls were daubed with sickly green paint and the sunshine veiled by whitewashed win- dows. The darkened theater oppressed her with a sense of its immensity.. Stalls and galleries were covered up by druggets, each of which might have harbored its particular ghost. Flaring gas jets illuminated dusty corners: Nothing was new. nothing whole. The stage manager's room helped this har- mony of disorder., It was very poor, very insufficient, very dirty. The man himself proved to be but an ordinary person, - He sat before .a little table dictating letters to a driven clerk. A third person stood in a patch:of sha- dow cast by a crazy screen, and ap- peared anxious to disguise his identity, The-manager himself finished dictating hjs leiter before he so much as Estheér or in any way Tecugnize presence, . When he did so, it was.to stare at her for many minutes, as he would have stared ac some curiosi offered for purchase or approval. *Well,” “he. asked at length, in a quick restless way, “and who are you, young lady? My name is Esther Venn,' quietly. “T wrote to you about 3 sagement.” He 1 hed softly—perhaps idea that Ahis kind “And is it that you des Fsther ans he . should read a letter “of for “Oh, which you please. T an dog will not refuse an engag; The retort amused him stretched out a handi to b ton to his chair; but the poodle, a judge of men, showed his teeth and began to growl. Esther held him firm- 1y by the collar; she was afraid of the consequences. “He don't like strangers,” she said, apologetically. *“I'm afraid he's given to first impressions.” “With a desire apparently to leave them upon my calf! The dog is not en- gaged, Miss—er, let me see, you said your name was—"' Esther Venn,” she repe hushing Mouton at her . Venn of Exeter.” “Who is now anxious to be Esther Venn of the Casino Theater. A com- mon ambition, young lady: 1 hope you have more than the common talents. “I should be very surprised if I had,” said Esther, in spite of herseif. “Come, that's. riot a bad beginning. Most of the people Who cyme here are Calyes -in disguige. : Can you sing.at 1 ot e g “My friends say that I ca “Ah, one’s friends generally do—when one is listening! Have you brought any songs?”, ol “None; but I can remember some?” -4To your own accompaniments?” “Qh, yes!" “Then go to the piano and do your best.” He indicated an open cottage piano drawn across that corner of the room which was nearest to the door, and composing himself in his chair he sat like one resigned to a painful ordeal. In spite of her ready answers, Esther was in such a state of nervous agita- tion that her hands trembled when she ‘tried to draw off her gloves, and the few introductory chords found her fin- gers heavy as lead. Presently, however, she began to sing a dainty chansonette . felt to be r freshness and 3 was nt to carry her out of If, b its spell to-day eemed absent, and she had no’ heart er singing was without verve th of expression; she knew s. Perhaps an antici- e already deprived her ke an effort. She up~ ces of refusal. engagement to-morrow might find of above her head. She do her best; and worst. The frees- she had been com- e in some measure She felt already the perfumed and larded 1t the writing-table. And wn who stood in what was he ved that he >~ she was singing and quite a relief that is enough.” unknown was in the shadowe when she rose from the piano. it?" she ex- “I really shockt wit “It's claimed, think I left my voice in Exeter.” Otto Hemming, the manager, did not take the same view; he was more cour- indeed, almost deferential when she had ce: sing. She knew that she had do badly, and could not understand it at all. For an instant she really believed that the coveted en- gagement was he The man was quite polite. “You have train te. a pretty voice but it needs e sald, in a way that not altogether unflll!efl’ “I suppose you have had a local mas- “I was taught by a peor Frenéhman a half a crown a lesson. Major my father, died when I was a she replied quietly. “There is not conservatoife’ in. Exeter, at least, none that I could: afford. to ats tend. My stepfather keeps the libPary there—" 1 see; your pages were mostly in waiting. And so you thought you'd come to London to make a living om the stage “Indeed I didn’t!'I g by my pen.” Worse ' and worse! The editors thanked you, [ suppose, and_the manu- scripts came back; oh, T konw, I know! and now you come to my theater with- out any qualifications @t all”just be. cause there isn’t anywhere else ‘(, " to! Isn’t that the truth, Miss Venn, just the truth?” She began to put ea her gloves and came to make &