merton of the movies-第59部分

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ormenting　visions；　a　mere　subtitle　would　flash　in　his　brain；　as　where　the　old　mother；　when　he　first　punished　her　insulter；　was　made　by　the　screen　to　call　out；　〃Kick　him　on　the　knee…cap；　too！〃

But　the　darkness　refreshed　his　tired　eyes；　and　sun　at　last　brought　him　a　merciful　outlet　from　a　world　in　which　you　could　act　your　best　and　still　be　funnier　than　a　cross…eyed　man。

He　awakened　long　past　his　usual　hour　and　occupied　his　first　conscious　moments　in　convincing　himself　that　the　scandal　of　the　night　before　had　not　been　a　bad　dream。　The　shock　was　a　little　dulled　now。　He　began　absurdly　to　remember　the　comments　of　those　who　had　appeared　to　enjoy　the　unworthy　entertainment。　Undoubtedly　many　people　had　mentioned　him　with　warm　approval。　But　such　praise　was　surely　nothing　to　take　comfort　from。　He　was　aroused　from　this　retrospection　by　a　knock　on　his　door。　It　proved　to　be　Mr。　Patterson　bearing　a　tray。　〃Mrs。　P。　thought　that　you　being　up　so　late　last　night　mebbe　would　like　a　cup　of　coffee　and　a　bite　of　something　before　you　went　out。〃　The　man's　manner　was　newly　respectful。　In　this　house；　at　least；　Merton　Gill　was　still　someone。

He　thanked　his　host；　and　consumed　the　coffee　and　toast　with　a　novel　sense　of　importance。　The　courtesy　was　unprecedented。　Mrs。　Patterson　had　indeed　been　sincere。　And　scarcely　had　he　finished　dressing　when　Mr。　Patterson　was　again　at　the　door。

〃A　gentleman　downstairs　to　see　you；　Mr。　Armytage。　〃He　says　his　name　is　Walberg　but　you　don't　know　him。　He　says　it's　a　business　matter。〃

〃Very　well；　I'll　be　down。〃　A　business　matter？　He　had　no　business　matters　with　any　one　except　Baird。

He　was　smitten　with　a　quick　and　quite　illogical　fear。　Perhaps　he　would　not　have　to　tear　up　that　contract　and　hurl　it　in　the　face　of　the　manager　who　had　betrayed　him。　Perhaps　the　manager　himself　would　do　the　tearing。　Perhaps　Baird；　after　seeing　the　picture；　had　decided　that　Merton　Gill　would　not　do。　Instantly　he　felt　resentful。　Hadn't　he　given　the　best　that　was　in　him？　Was　it　his　fault　if　other　actors　had　turned　into　farce　one　of　the　worth…while　things？

He　went　to　meet　Mr。　Walberg　with　this　resentment　so　warm　that　his　greeting　of　the　strange　gentleman　was　gruff　and　short。　The　caller；　an　alert；　businesslike　man；　came　at　once　to　his　point。　He　was；　it　proved；　not　the　representative　of　a　possibly　repenting　Baird。　He　was；　on　the　contrary；　representing　a　rival　producer。　He　extended　his　cardThe　Bigart　Comedies。

〃I　got　your　address　from　the　Holden　office；　Mr。　Armytage。　I　guess　I　routed　you　out　of　bed；　eh？　Well；　it's　like　this；　if　yon　ain't　sewed　up　with　Baird　yet；　the　Bigart　people　would　like　to　talk　a　little　business　to　you。　How　about　it？〃

〃Business？〃　Mr。　Armytage　fairly　exploded　this。　He　was　unhappy　and　puzzled；　in　consequence；　unamiable。

〃Sure；　business；〃　confirmed　Mr。　Walberg。　〃I　understand　you　just　finished　another　five…reeler　for　the　Buckeye　outfit；　but　how　about　some　stuff　for　us　now？　We　can　give　you　as　good　a　company　as　that　one　last　night　and　a　good　line　of　comedy。　We　got　a　gag　man　that　simply　never　gets　to　the　end　of　his　string。　He's　doping　out　something　right　now　that　would　fit　you　like　a　gloveand　say；　it　would　be　a　great　idea　to　kind　a'　specialize　in　that　spur　act　of　yours。　That　got　over　big。　We　could　work　it　in　again。　An　act　like　that's　good　for　a　million　laughs。〃

Mr。　Armytage　eyed　Mr。　Walberg　coldly。　Even　Mr。　Walberg　felt　an　extensive　area　of　glaciation　setting　in。

〃I　wouldn't　think　of　it；〃　said　the　actor；　still　gruffly。

〃Do　you　mean　that　you　can't　come　to　the　Bigart　at　allon　any　proposition？〃

〃That's　what　I　mean；〃　confirmed　Mr。　Armytage。

〃Would　three　hundred　and　fifty　a　week　interest　you？〃

〃No；〃　said　Mr。　Armytage；　though　he　gulped　twice　before　achieving　it。

Mr。　Walberg　reported　to　his　people　that　this　Armytage　lad　was　one　hard…boiled　proposition。　He'd　seen　lots　of　'em　in　his　time；　but　this　bird　was　a　wonder。

Yet　Mr。　Armytage　was　not　really　so　granitic　of　nature　as　the　Bigart　emissary　had　thought　him。　He　had　begun　the　interview　with　a　smouldering　resentment　due　to　a　misapprehension；　he　had　been　outraged　by　a　suggestion　that　the　spurs　be　again　put　to　their　offensive　use；　and　he　had　been　stunned　by　an　offer　of　three　hundred　and　fifty　dollars　a　week。　That　was　all。

Here　was　a　new　angle　to　the　puzzles　that　distracted　him。　He　was　not　only　praised　by　the　witless；　but　he　had　been　found　desirable　by　certain　discerning　overlords　of　filmdom。　What　could　be　the　secret　of　a　talent　that　caused　people；　after　viewing　it　but　once；　to　make　reckless　offers？

And　another　thingwhy　had　he　allowed　Baird　to　〃sew　him　up〃？　The　Montague　girl　again　occupied　the　foreground　of　his　troubled　musings。　She；　with　her　airs　of　wise　importance；　had　helped　to　sew　him　up。　She　was　a　helpless　thing；　after　all；　and　false　of　nature。　He　would　have　matters　out　with　her　this　very　day。　But　first　he　must　confront　Baird　in　a　scene　of　scorn　and　reprobation。

On　the　car　he　became　aware　that　far　back　in　remote　caverns　of　his　mind　there　ran　a　teasing　memory　of　some　book　on　the　shelves　of　the　Simsbury　public　library。　He　was　sure　it　was　not　a　book　he　had　read。　It　was　merely　the　title　that　hid　itself。　Only　this　had　ever　interested　him；　and　it　but　momentarily。　So　much　he　knew。　A　book's　title　had　lodged　in　his　mind；　remained　there；　and　was　now　curiously　stirring　in　some　direct　relation　to　his　present　perplexities。

But　it　kept　its　face　averted。　He　could　not　read　it。　Vaguely　he　identified　the　nameless　book　with　Tessie　Kearns；　he　could　not　divine　how；　because　it　was　not　her　book　and　he　had　never　seen　it　except　on　the　library　shelf。

The　nameless　book　persistently　danced　before　him。　He　was　glad　of　this。　It　kept　him　at　moments　from　thinking　of　the　loathly　Baird。




CHAPTER　XIX

THE　TRAGIC　COMEDIAN


Penetrating　the　Holden　lot　he　was　relieved　to　find　that　he　created　no　immediate　sensation。　People　did　not　halt　to　point　derisive　fingers　at　him；　he　had　half　feared　they　would。　As　he　approached　the　office　building　he　was　almost　certain　he　saw　Baird　turn　in　ahead　of　him。　Yet　when　he　entered　the　outer　room　of　the　Buckeye　offices　a　young　woman　looked　up　from　her　typewriter　to　tell　him　that　Mr。　Baird　was　not　in。

She　was　a　serious…eyed　young　woman　of　a　sincere　manner；　she　spoke　with　certainty　of　tone。　Mr。　Baird　was　not　only　out；　but　he　would　not　be　in　for　several　days。　His　physician　had　ordered　him　to　a　sanitarium。

The　young　woman　resumed　her　typing；　she　did　not　again；　glance　up。　The　caller　seemed　to　consider　waiting　on　a　chance　that　she　had　been　misinformed。　He　was　now　sure　he　had　seen　Baird　enter　the　building；　and　the　door　of　his　private　office　was　closed。　The　caller　idled　outside　the　railing；　absently　regarding　stills　of　past　Buckeye　atrocities　that　had　been　hung　upon　the　walls　of　the　office　by　someone　with　primitive　tastes　in　decoration。　He　was　debating　a　direct　challenge　of　the　young　woman's　veracity。

What　would　she　say　if　told　that　the　caller　meant　to　wait　right　there　until　Mr。　Baird　should　convalesce？　He　managed　some　appraising　side…　glances　at　her　as　she　bent　over　her　machine。　She　seemed　to　believe　he　had　already　gone。

Then　he　did　go。　No　good　talking　that　way　to　a　girl。　If　it　had　been　a　man。　now〃You　tell　Mr。　Baird　that　Mr。　Gill's　got　to　see　him　as　soon　as　possible　about　something　important；〃　he　directed　from　the　open　door。

The　young　woman　raised　her　serious　eyes　to　his　and　nodded。　She　resumed　her　work。　The　door　closed。　Upon　its　closing　the　door　of　Baird's　private　office　opened　noiselessly　to　a　crack　that　sufficed　for　the　speaking　voice　at　very　moderate　pitch　to　issue。

〃Get　Miss　Montague　on　the　'phone；〃　directed　the　voice。　The　door　closed　noiselessly。　Beyond　it　Mr。　Baird　was　presently　speaking　in　low；　sweet　tones。

〃'Lo；　Sister！　Listen；　that　squirrel　just　boiled　in　here；　and　I　ducked　him。　I　told　the　girl　I　wasn't　to　be　in　unless　he　was　laughing　all　over；　and　he　wasn't　doing　the　least　little　thing　that　was　anywheres　near　laughing。　See　what　I　mean？　It's　up　to　you　now。　You　started　it；　you　got　to　finish　it。　I've　irised　out。　Get　me？〃

On　the　steps　outside　the　rebuffed　Merton　Gill　glanced　at　his　own　natty　wrist…watch；　bought　with　some　of　the　later　wages　of　his　shame。　It　was　the　luncheon　hour；　mechanically　he　made　his　way　to　the　cafeteria。　He　had　ceased　to　rehearse　the　speech　a　doughtier　Baird　would　now　have　been　hearing。

Instead　he　roughly　drafted　one　that　Sarah　Nevada　Montague　could　not　long　evade。　Even　on　her　dying　bed　she　would　be　compelled　to　listen。　The　practising　orator　with　bent　head　mumbled　as　he　walked。　He　still　mumbled　as　he　indicated　a　choice　of　foods　at　the　cafeteria　counter；　he　continued　to　be　thus　absorbed　as　he　found　a　table　near　the　centre　of　the　room。

He　arranged　his　assortment　of　viands。　〃You　led　me　on；　that's　what　you　did；〃　he　continued　to　the　absent　culprit。　〃Led　me　on　to　make　a　laughing…stock　of　myself；　that's　what　you　did。　Made　a　fool　of　me；　that's　what　you　did。〃

〃All　the　same；　I　can't　help　thinking　he's　a　harm　to　the　industry；〃　came　the　crisp　tones　of　Henshaw　from　an　adjoining　table。　The　rehearsing　orator　glanced　up　to　discover　that　the　director　and　the　sunny…faced　brown　and　gray　man　he　called　Governor　were　smoking　above　the　plates　of　their　finished　luncheon。

〃I　wouldn't　worry　too　much；〃　suggested　the　cheerful　governor。

〃But　see　what　he　does：　he　takes　the　good　old　reliable；　sure…fire　stuff　and　makes　fun　of　it。　I　admit　it's　funny　to　start　with；　but　what'll　happen　to　us　if　the　picture　public　ever　finds　that　out？　What'll　we　do　then　for　dramaafter　they've　learned　to　laugh　at　the　old　stuff？〃

〃Tush；　tush；　my　boy！〃　The　Governor　waved　a　halfconsumed　cigarette　until　its　ash　fell。　〃Never　fear。　Do　you　think　a　thousand　Jeff　Bairds　could　make　the　picture　public　laugh　at　the　old　stuff　when　it's　played　straight？　They　laughed　last　night；　yes；　but　not　so　much　at　the　really　fine　burlesque；　they　guffawed　at　the　slap…stick　stuff　that　went　with　it。　Baird's　shrewd。　He　knows　if　he　played　straight　burlesque　he'd　never　make　a　dollar；　so　notice　how　he'll　give　a　bit　of　straight　that　is　genuine　art；　then　a　bit　of　slap…stick　that　any　one　can　get。　The　slap…stick　is　what　carries　the　show。　Real　burlesque　is　criticism；　my　boy；　sometimes　the　very　high…browest　sort。　It　demands　sophistication；　a　pretty　high　intelligence　in　the　man　t