Lord John in New York

								

was the principal object of attraction at the moment in Violet's zoo--I
mean her convalescent home.  She had cried because men were not being
wounded fast enough to fill its expensively appointed rooms; I was
captured, therefore, to make up for deficiencies and shown off to
Violet's many friends, who were duly photographed bending beautifully
over me.
There was, as I had feared, a letter from Irene Anderson; there was
also--even worse--one from Mrs. Allendale.  But the third letter was
from Carr Price.  On the envelope was the address of the New York
theatre where the play he had dramatised from my book would shortly be
produced.  He had come to England a million years ago, before the war,
to consult me about his work, which would have been brought out in
London if the war had not upset our manager's plans.  I like Carr
Price, who is as much poet as playwright; a charming, sensitive,
nervous, wonderful fellow.  I gave his letter precedence.

"DEAR LORD JOHN," he began, and I judged from the scrawl that he wrote
in agitation--"for goodness' sake, what have you done to Roger Odell
that he should have a grouch on you?  It must have been something
pretty bad.  I wish to Heaven you'd given me the tip last summer that
you'd made an enemy of him.  Roger Odell, of all men in America!  I
suppose the brother of a marquis can stand on his own feet in his own
country, but even if his brother's an archangel his feet are apt to get
cold in New York if Roger Odell turns the heat off.
"The facts--as I've just heard from Julius Felborn--are these.
Yesterday Odell sent for Julius, who went like a bird, for he and Odell
are friends.  Odell's money and influence put Julius where he is now,
as a manager, up at the top, though still young.  What was Julius's
horror, however, when Odell blurted out a warning not to produce any
play dramatised from a book of yours, because he--Odell--would do his
best to ruin it!  Julius asked what the dickens he meant.  Odell
wouldn't explain.  All he'd say was, that he'd be sorry to hurt Julius
and had nothing against me, but The Key would get no chance in New
York or any old town in the United States where Roger Odell had a
finger in the pie.
"Well, you must have heard enough about Odell to know what such a
threat amounts to.  There are mighty few pies he hasn't got a finger
in.  Not that he's a man who threatens as a rule.  He's made a good
many men.  I never heard of his breaking one.  But when he decides to
do a thing, he does it.  Julius is in a blue funk.  He's not a coward,
but even if he felt strong enough to fight Odell's newspapers and other
influence, he says it would be an act of 'base ingratitude' to do so,
as he'd be 'walking on his uppers' now but for Odell's help, tiding
over rough places in the past.  Julius took all night to reflect, and
rang me up this morning.  I'm writing in his office at the theatre now,