"The same, my boy. Lessee of the Opera, lessee of the Diana, lessee of
the Folly, lessee of the Ottoman. If any one knows the color of his
cheques I reckon it's me. He made me--that I will say; but I made him,
too. Queer fellow! Awfully cute of him to get elected to the County
Council. It was through him I met my wife. Did you ever see Emmeline
when she was Sissie Vox?"
"I'm afraid I didn't."
"You missed a treat, old man. There was no one to touch her in boys'
parts in burlesque. A dashed fine woman she is--though I say it,
dashed fine!" He seemed to reflect a moment. "She's a spiritualist. I
wish she wasn't. Spiritualism gets on her nerves. I've no use for it
myself, but it's her life. It gives her fancies. She got some sort of
a silly notion--don't tell her I said this, Carlie--about Rosetta
Rosa. Says she's unlucky--Rosa, I mean. Wanted me to warn Smart
against engaging her. Me! Imagine it! Why, Rosa will be the making of
this opera season! She's getting a terrific salary, Smart told me."
"It's awfully decent of you to offer me a seat," I began to thank him.
"Stuff!" he said. "Cost me nothing." A clock struck softly.
"Christopher! it's half-past twelve, and I'm due at the Diana at
twelve. We're rehearsing, you know."
We went out of the club arm in arm, Sullivan toying with his
eye-glass.
"Well, you'll toddle round to-night, eh? Just ask for my box. You'll
find they'll look after you. So long!"
He walked off.
"I say," he cried, returning hastily on his steps, and lowering his
voice, "when you meet my wife, don't say anything about her
theatrical career. She don't like it. She's a great lady now. See?"
"Why, of course!" I agreed.
He slapped me on the back and departed.
It is easy to laugh at Sullivan. I could see that even then--perhaps
more clearly then than now. But I insist that he was lovable. He had
little directly to do with my immense adventure, but without him it
could not have happened. And so I place him in the forefront of the
narrative.