In that case they have been blessed. It will seem
strange to you, Mr. Larcher, but whatever I've done in my own name has
met with wretched pay and no recognition, while work of mine, no better,
when passed off as another man's, has won golden rewards--for him--in
money and reputation."
"It does seem strange," admitted Larcher.
"What can account for it?"
"Do you know what a 'Jonah' is, in the speech of the vulgar?"
"Yes; certainly."
"Well, people have got me tagged with that name. I bring ill luck to
enterprises I'm concerned in, they say. That's a fatal reputation, Mr.
Larcher. It wasn't deserved in the beginning, but now that I have it, see
how the reputation itself is the cause of the apparent ill luck. Take
this thing, for instance." He held up a sheet of music paper, whereon he
had evidently been writing before Larcher's arrival. "A song, supposed to
be sentimental. As the idea is somewhat novel, the words happy, and the
tune rather quaint, I shall probably get a publisher for it, who will
offer me the lowest royalty. What then? Its fame and sale--or whether it
shall have any--will depend entirely on what advertising it gets from
being sung by professional singers. I have taken the precaution to submit
the idea and the air to a favorite of the music halls, and he has
promised to sing it. Now, if he sang it on the most auspicious occasion,
making it the second or third song of his turn, having it announced with
a flourish on the programme, and putting his best voice and style into
it, it would have a chance of popularity.
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