Tal't P'r. XI Carson Tinker was in the elevator at the Pantheon, and the operator was closing the door thereof, about to ascend, but delayed upon a sound of running footsteps and a call of “Up!” Stewart Canby plunged into the cage; his hat, clutched in his hand, disclosing emphatically that he had been at his hair again. “What's he mean?” he demanded fiercely. “What have I done?” “What's the matter?” inquired the calm Tinker. “What's he called it off for?” “Called what off?” “The play! My play!” “I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't seen him since rehearsal. His Japanese boy called me on the telephone a little while ago and told me he wanted to see me.” “He did?” cried the distracted Canby. “The Japanese boy wanted to see--” “No,” Tinker corrected. “He did.” “And you haven't heard--” “Twelfth,” urged the operator, having opened the door. “Twelfth, if you please, gentlemen.” “I haven't heard anything to cause excitement,” said Tinker, stepping out. “I haven't heard anything at all.” He pressed the tiny disc beside the door of Potter's apartment. “What's upset you?” With a pathetic gesture Canby handed him Potter's note. “What have I done? What does he think I've done to him?” Tinker read the note and shook his head. “The Lord knows! You see he's all moods, and they change--they change any time. He knows his business, but you can't count on him. He's liable to do anything--anything at all.” “But what reason--” The Japanese boy, Sato, stood bobbing in the doorway. “Mis' Potter kassee,” he said courteously. “Ve'y so'y Mis' Potter kassee nobody.” “Can't see us?” said Tinker. “Yes, he can. You telephoned me that he wanted to see me, not over a quarter of an hour ago.” Sato beamed upon him enthusiastically. “Yisso, yisso! See Mis' Tinker, yisso! You come in, Mis' Tinker. Ve'y so'y. Mis' Potter kassee nobody.” “You mean he'll see Mister Tinker but won't see anybody else?” cried the playwright. “Yisso,” said Sato, delighted. “Ve'y so'y. Mis' Potter kassee nobody.” “I will see him. I--” “Wait. It's all right,” Tinker reassured him soothingly. “It's all right, Sato. You go and tell Mr. Potter that I'm here and Mr. Canby came with me.” “Yisso.” Sato stood back from the door obediently, and they passed into the hall. “You sidowm, please.” “Tell him we're waiting in here,” said Tinker, leading the way into the cream-coloured salon. “Yisso.” Sato disappeared. The pretty room was exquisitely cheerful, a coal fire burning rosily in the neat little grate, but for its effect upon Canby it might have been a dentist's anteroom. He was unable to sit, and began to pace up and down, shampooing himself with both hands.