ALIAS HAROLD PARMALEE
Merton Gill awoke to the comforting realization that he was between sheets instead of blankets, and that this morning he need not obscurely leave his room by means of a window. As he dressed, however, certain misgivings, to which he had been immune the day before, gnawed into his optimism. He was sober now. The sheer intoxication of food after fasting, of friendly concern after so long a period when no one had spoken him kindly or otherwise, had evaporated. He felt the depression following success.
He had been rescued from death by starvation, but had anything more than this come about? Had he not fed upon the charity of a strange girl, taking her money without seeing ways to discharge the debt?
How could he ever discharge it? Probably before this she had begun to think of him as a cheat. She had asked him to come to the lot, but had been vague as to the purpose. Probably his ordeal of struggle and sacrifice was not yet over. At any rate, he must find a job that would let him pay back the borrowed twenty-five dollars.
He would meet her as she had requested, assure her of his honest intentions, and then seek for work. He would try all the emporiums in Hollywood. They were numerous and some one of them would need the services of an experienced assistant. This plan of endeavour crystallized as he made his way to the Holden lot. He had brought his package of stills, but only because the girl had insisted on seeing them.
The Countess made nothing of letting him in. She had missed him, she said, for what seemed like months, and was glad to hear that he now had something definite in view, because the picture game was mighty uncertain and it was only the lucky few nowadays that could see something definite. He did not confide to her that the definite something now within his view would demand his presence at some distance from her friendly self.
He approached the entrance to Stage Five with head bent in calculation, and not until he heard her voice did he glance up to observe that the Montague girl was dancing from pleasure, it would seem, at merely beholding him. She seized both his hands in her strong grasp and revolved him at the centre of a circle she danced.
Then she held him off while her eyes took in the details of his restoration.
"Well, well, well! That shows what a few ham and eggs and sleep will do. Kid, you gross a million at this minute. New suit, new shoes, snappy cravat right from the Men's Quality Shop, and all shaved and combed slick and everything! Say--and I was afraid maybe you wouldn't show."He regarded her earnestly. "Oh, I would have come back, all right;I'd never forget that twenty-five dollars I owe you; and you'll get it all back, only it may take a little time. I thought I'd see you for a minute, then go out and find a job--you know, a regular job in a store.""Nothing of the sort, old Trouper!" She danced again about him, both his hands in hers, which annoyed him because it was rather loud public behaviour, though he forgave her in the light of youth and kindliness. "No regular job for you, old Pippin--nothing but acting all over the place--real acting that people come miles to see.""Do you think I can really get a part?" Perhaps the creature had something definite in view for him.
"Sure you can get a part! Yesterday morning I simply walked into a part for you. Come along over to the office with me. Goody--I see you brought the stills. I'll take a peek at 'em myself before Baird gets here." "Baird? Not the Buckeye comedy man?" He was chilled by a sudden fear.
"Yes, Jeff Baird. You see he is going to do some five--reelers and this first one has a part that might do for you. At least, I told him some things about you, and he thinks you can get away with it."He went moodily at her side, thinking swift thoughts. It seemed ungracious to tell her of his loathing for the Buckeye comedies, those blasphemous caricatures of worth-while screen art. It would not be fair. And perhaps here was a quick way to discharge his debt and be free of obligation to the girl. Of course he would always feel a warm gratitude for her trusting kindness, but when he no longer owed her money he could choose his own line of work. Rather bondage to some Hollywood Gashwiler than clowning in Baird's infamies!
"Well, I'll try anything he gives me," he said at last, striving for the enthusiasm he could not feel.
"You'll go big, too," said the girl. "Believe, me Kid, you'll go grand."In Baird's offices he sat at the desk and excitedly undid the package of stills. "We'll give 'em the once-over before he comes,"she said, and was presently exclaiming with delight at the art study of Clifford Armytage in evening dress, two straight fingers pressing the left temple, the face in three-quarter view.
