After a leisurely breakfast, he took a stroll down the street, and his astonishment and anger can better be imagined than described when his eyes fell upon the announcement which graced the board in front of the Arcadian Theatre. Lawford had not yet reached that part of the city. Bryton stormed and raged, and even went so far as to try and tear the paper off, but the paste had been well mixed, and his efforts were in vain. Fairly foaming at the mouth, he dashed back to the hotel, and tried to get Lawford on the telephone, but no one answered him. He had just come away from the booth after a second attempt when his eyes fell upon the smiling face of Austin Demarest, and he promptly crossed the lobby, and confronted the young actor. “You young blackguard!” he frothed. “How dare you put up posters in front of my theatre? How dare you use any of the boards which I control for your rotten paper?” Demarest’s eyes narrowed. “Just keep a civil tongue in your mouth, Bryton,” he said coldly. “I suppose it is rather difficult for you to behave like a gentleman, but a little more of such talk as that, and I’ll have to hand you something.” The older man glared at his antagonist, and his face grew purple, but he managed to keep a grip on his temper, for he realized that his anger had carried him farther than he had meant. “You’ve no right to use the boards in this city, which I control,” he said, in a calmer tone. “I wasn’t aware that you controlled any of them,” Demarest returned coolly. “I labored under the impression that they were the property of John Lawford, with whom I made arrangements early yesterday afternoon to post my paper.” Bryton gasped. “But I told him not——” he began, and then stopped abruptly. “Exactly,” put in the actor. “You ordered him to throw me down after he had explicitly agreed to do my work. That’s like you, Bryton. You can’t blame me for taking things into my own hands.” Bryton’s eyes flashed angrily. “Much good it will do you!” he snapped. “By noon your stuff will be covered.” “Just the same, my purpose will have been accomplished,” Demarest smiled tauntingly. “People will have all morning to see the announcements, and then they will wonder why your paper is plastered over them. I shall take care that they find out. I have a friend or two on the New Haven press. You slipped up on the shop windows, didn’t you?” His voice held a note of malicious satisfaction. The older man gave a sudden start. “Lawford was to go around after——” “Too late,” the actor returned quickly. “I have the best locations cinched. They’re paid for, and an agreement signed. If any of them try to take out my lithographs, or cover them up with yours, I’ll sue for breach of contract.”