The Fifth String | Page 6

shoulder: ``Let me read this one to you. It is by Herr
Totenkellar. He is a hard nut to crack, but he did himself proud this
time. Great critic when he wants to be.''
Perkins cleared his throat and began: ``Diotti combines tremendous
feeling with equally tremendous technique. The entire audience was
under the witchery of his art.'' Diotti slowly negatived that statement
with bowed head. ``His tone is full, round and clear; his interpretation
lends a story-telling charm to the music; for, while we drank deep at the
fountain of exquisite melody, we saw sparkling within the waters the
lights of Paradise. New York never has heard his equal. He stands
alone, pre-eminent, an artistic giant.''
``Now, that's what I call great,'' said the impresario, dramatically;
``when you hit Totenkellar that way you are good for all kinds of
money.''

Perkins took his hat and cane and moved toward the door. The violinist
arose and extended his hand wearily. ``Good-day'' came simultaneously;
then ``I'm off. We'll turn 'em away to-morrow; see if we don't!''
Whereupon Perkins left Diotti alone in his misery.

IV
It was the evening of the fourteenth, In front of the Academy a strong-
lunged and insistent tribe of gentry, known as ticket speculators, were
reaping a rich harvest. They represented a beacon light of hope to many
tardy patrons of the evening's entertainment, especially to the man who
had forgotten his wife's injunction ``to be sure to buy the tickets on the
way down town, dear, and get them in the family circle, not too far
back.'' This man's intentions were sincere, but his newspaper was
unusually interesting that morning. He was deeply engrossed in an
article on the causes leading to matrimonial infelicities when his 'bus
passed the Academy box-office.
He was six blocks farther down town when he finished the article, only
to find that it was a carefully worded advertisement for a new patent
medicine, and of course he had not time to return. ``Oh, well,'' said he,
``I'll get them when I go up town to-night.''
But he did not. So with fear in his heart and a red-faced woman on his
arm he approached the box-office. ``Not a seat left,'' sounded to his
hen- pecked ears like the concluding words of the black-robed judge:
``and may the Lord have mercy upon your soul.'' But a reprieve came,
for one of the aforesaid beacon lights of hope rushed forward, saying:
``I have two good seats, not far back, and only ten apiece.'' And the
gentleman with fear in his heart and the red-faced woman on his arm
passed in.
They saw the largest crowd in the history of the Academy. Every seat
was occupied, every foot of standing room taken. Chairs were placed in
the side aisles. The programs announced that it was the second
appearance in America of Angelo Diotti, the renowed Tuscan violinist.
The orchestra had perfunctorily ground out the overture to ``Der
Freischuetz,'' the baritone had stentorianly emitted ``Dio Possente,'' the
soprano was working her way through the closing measures of the mad
scene from ``Lucia,'' and Diotti was number four on the program. The
conductor stood beside his platform, ready to ascend as Diotti

appeared.
The audience, ever ready to act when those on the stage cease that
occupation, gave a splendid imitation of the historic last scene at the
Tower of Babel. Having accomplished this to its evident satisfaction,
the audience proceeded, like the closing phrase of the
``Goetterdaemmerung'' Dead March, to become exceedingly
quiet--then expectant.
This expectancy lasted fully three minutes. Then there were some
impatient handclappings. A few persons whispered: ``Why is he late?''
``Why doesn't he come?'' ``I wonder where Diotti is,'' and then came
unmistakable signs of impatience. At its height Perkins appeared,
hesitatingly. Nervous and jerky he walked to the center of the stage,
and raised his hand begging silence. The audience was stilled.
``Ladies and gentlemen,'' he falteringly said, ``Signor Diotti left his
hotel at seven o'clock and was driven to the Academy. The call-boy
rapped at his dressing-room, and not receiving a reply, opened the door
to find the room empty. We have despatched searchers in every
direction and have sent out a police alarm. We fear some accident has
befallen the Signor. We ask your indulgence for the keen
disappointment, and beg to say that your money will be refunded at the
box-office.''
Diotti had disappeared as completely as though the earth had
swallowed him.

V
My Dearest Sister: You doubtless were exceedingly mystified and
troubled over the report that was flashed to Europe regarding my
sudden disappearance on the eve of my second concert in New York.
Fearing, sweet Francesca, that you might mourn me as dead, I sent the
cablegram you received some weeks since, telling