The director snapped his fingers, and indulged in an angry exclamation. "Not the genius that he thinks himself, not the genius his friends pretend he is. He is very astute on the business side, has worked his Press well, and always maintains a vigilant _claque_. I and people like myself have helped him very considerably also by taking him at his face valuation. Genius, certainly not; at any rate, not a great genius." Monsieur Degraux snapped his fingers more contemptuously, and reeled off the names of a few rivals. "Those are geniuses if you like, artists who disclaim his clap-trap methods." Nello felt uncomfortable and apprehensive. The irate director was evidently so occupied with the subject of the offending Bauquel that Mr. Gay's letter stood in danger of being forgotten. And the great man had especially said that his time was short. "Monsieur Bauquel has had the misfortune to incur your displeasure, sir?" he hazarded. "I should think he had," cried Degraux furiously. "He was to appear at my great concert next week; Royalty and the élite of London will be there. Two days ago we had a little tiff, in which I admit I told him some home truths. What happens? This morning I receive a letter, dated from Brighton, in which he throws me over. Pretends he is ill and that his doctor has ordered a complete rest." "And you do not believe this to be true, Monsieur?" "True!" thundered Degraux. "An absolute lie. A friend of mine writes me at the same time from the Grand Hotel. He tells me that the so-called invalid is staying there with a rowdy party and looking the picture of health. The scoundrel has done it to put me in a corner. And what is to become of my concert? I cannot put my hand on a violinist of the first rank in the few days left me." Nello stood up, his face glowing, his limbs trembling with excitement. He pointed to Gay's letter, which lay on the director's desk. "Monsieur, I beseech you, if it is not too great presumption, to let me take his place. I may not make a sensation, but certainly I shall not be a failure. And you will have so many stars of the first magnitude, that a smaller one may dare to give a little light. You have read what Mr. Gay says of me. I fancy he is no mean judge of music and musicians." Degraux was suddenly brought down from his heights of indignation by this direct appeal. He looked keenly at the young man, but in his eyes there appeared a humorous twinkle, as if he admired his audacity. "You don't miss a chance, I see, my young friend. But it is a big risk to run you in the place of Bauquel, and as soon as he gets wind of it, he will send his _claque_ to hiss you." Monsieur Degraux thought for several seconds, and the young man went hot and cold. His hopes, his fate, hung upon the conductor's caprice. Degraux touched a bell on the desk with the air of a man who had made up his mind. An attendant answered the summons.