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Page 26
"How do you propose to go about things?" I asked.
"I'm afraid this is a case which will have to be approached
entirely through psychological reactions. You and I will have to
become familiar with the studio and home life of all the long
list of possible suspects. I shall analyze the body fluids of the
deceased and learn the cause of death, and I will find out what
it is on the towel, but"--sighing--"there are so many different
ramifications, so many--"
Suddenly his eye caught the corner of a piece of paper slid under
the glass of Manton's desk. He pulled it out; then handed it to
me.
MEMORANDUM FOR MR. MANTON
Have learned Enid Faye is out of Pentangle and can be engaged for
about twelve hundred if you act quickly. Why not cancel Lamar
contract after "Black Terror," if she continues up-stage?
WERNER.
"I caught the name Lamar," Kennedy explained. Then an expression
of gratification crept into his face. "Miss Lamar was 'up-
stage'?" he mused. "That's a theatrical word for cussedness,
isn't it?"
I paid little attention. The name of Enid Faye had attracted my
own interest. This was the little dare-devil who had breezed into
the Pacific Coast film colony and had swept everything before
her. Not only had she displayed amazing nerve for her sex and
size, but she had been pretty and beautifully formed, had been as
much at home in a ballroom as in an Annette Kellermann bathing
suit. In less than six months she had learned to act and had been
brought to the Eastern studios of Pentangle. Now it was possible
that she would be captured by Manton, would be blazoned all over
the country by that gentleman, would become another star of his
making.
"Let's go, Walter!" Kennedy, impatient, rose. I noticed that he
folded the little note, slipping it into his pocket.
Out in the hall voices came to us from Werner's office. After
some little hesitation Kennedy opened the door unceremoniously.
At the table, littered with blue prints and drawings and colored
plates of famous home interiors, was the director. With him was
Manton. Seated facing them, in rare good humor, was a fascinating
little lady.
The promoter rose. "Professor Kennedy, I want you to meet Miss
Enid Faye, one of our real comers. And Mr. Jameson, Enid, of the
New York Star."
She acknowledged the introduction to Kennedy gracefully. Then she
turned, rising, and rushed to me most effusively, leading me to a
leather-covered couch and pulling me to a seat beside her.
"Mr. Jameson," she purred. "I just love newspaper men; I think
they're perfectly wonderful always. Tell me, do you like little
Enid?"
I nodded, confused and unhappy, and as red as a schoolboy.
"That's fine," she went on, in the best modulated and most
wonderful voice I thought I had ever heard. "I like you and I
know we're going to be the best of friends. Tell me, what's your
first name?"
"Now, Enid," reproved Manton, in fatherly tones, "you'll have
plenty of time to vamp your publicity later. For the present,
please listen to me. We're talking business."
"Shoot every hair of this old gray head!" she directed, pertly.
She did not move away, however, I could feel the warmth of her,
could catch the delicacy of the perfume she used. I noted the
play of her slender fingers, the trimness of her ankle, the
piquancy of a nose revealed to me in profile--and nothing else.
"This is your chance, Enid," Manton continued, earnestly and
rather eagerly. "You know the film will be the most talked about
one this year. We've got the Merritt papers lined up and that's
the best advertising in the world. Everyone will know you took
Stella's place, and--well, you'll step right in."
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