"Stout, Rex - The Rope Dance" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stout Rex)

green enough myself. So I'm broke, and it's a long, long way to Arizona. Last night I happened in
here and saw your show, and an idea came to me. It's a new stunt for the show, and it ought to be
pretty good. So I thought I'd--"

"What is it?" interrupted Mr. Dickson, whose cordiality had rapidly disappeared as he became
aware of the nature of the visitor's errand. This was just some nut looking for a job.

"Something new," said Rick placidly. "I can't tell you very well; I've got to show you. It'll take
five minutes. All I want is a room with plenty of space, say twenty feet on each side, and a high
ceiling--"

"But what is it?" the other repeated impatiently.

Rick looked at him.

"Gosh, you're not wild," he observed with a twinkle in his eye. "You're just plain sassy. Didn't I
say I had to show you? Haven't you got a room around here somewhere of the general size I
indicated? Haven't you got a pair of eyes to look at me with?"

The frown left Dickson's brow, and he laughed.

"Well, you're wild enough for both of us," he declared. "I guess you'll get back to Arizona all
right, some way or other. As for your stunt for the cabaret, it's a thousand to one that it's rotten.

THE ROPE DANCE

Get any book for free on: www.Abika.com

10

Naturally you can't be expected to know anything about cabarets. However, I'll take a look.
Come on, we'll go up to the banquet room on the next floor; I guess you'll find it big enough."

"Much obliged," said Rick.

He picked up his traveling bag and follovred the restaurant proprietor out of the office.

The evening of the following day the patrons of Dickson's of Broadway were treated to a
surprise.

Do you know the main room at Dickson's?

The first thing you notice about the place is the light-- dazzling, glaring, bold; a perfect riot of
light, whitish yellow, that comes from four immense chandeliers suspended from the ceiling and
innumerable electric lamps on the marble pillars, attached to the walls, on the tables, everywhere.

Then your ears are assaulted, and you hear the clinking of glasses, the muffled footsteps of
waiters, the confusing hum of conversation from half a thousand tongues, and mingled with all
this a sound of music, now suppressed, now insistent, that comes from the orchestra on the rear
of the raised platform at one side. On the front of this platform, of which a fair view may be had