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Page 28
I marveled as I realized that the remains of Stella Lamar were
scarcely cold before these people were figuring on the star to
take her place.
As Manton talked, the thought crossed my mind that such a man
needed no publicity manager. I dismissed the idea that he might
be capable even of murder for publicity. But at least it was an
insight into some methods of the game.
As our car mounted to the Concourse and turned Manhattanward I
was distinctly unhappy. Manton monopolized Enid completely,
insisting upon talking over everything under the sun, from the
wardrobe she would need in Stella's part and the best sort of
personal advertising campaign for her, to the first available
evening when she could go to dinner with him.
She sat in the rear seat, between Kennedy and the promoter, which
did not add to my sense of comfort. The only consoling feature
from my viewpoint was that I was admirably placed to study her,
and that Manton held her so engrossed that I had every
opportunity to do so unnoticed. Because she had overwhelmed me so
completely I did nothing of the kind. I knew we were riding with
the most beautiful woman in New York, but I did not know the
color of her hair or eyes, or even the sort of hat or dress she
wore. In short I was movie-struck.
We stopped at last at a huge, ornate apartment house on Riverside
Drive and Manton led the way through the wide Renaissance
entrance and the luxurious marble hall to the elevator. His
quarters, on the top floor, facing the river, were almost exotic
in the lavishness and barbaric splendor of their furnishings. My
first impression as we entered the place was that Manton had
purposely planned the dim lights of rich amber and the clinging
Oriental fragrance hovering about everything so as to produce an
alluring and enticing atmosphere. The chairs and wide upholstered
window seats, the soft, yielding divans in at least two corners,
with their miniature mountains of tiny pillows, all were
comfortable with the comfort one associates with lotus eating and
that homeward journey soon to be forgotten. There was the smoke
of incense, unmistakably. On a taboret were cigarettes and cigars
and through heavy curtains I caught a glimpse of a sideboard and
decanters, filled and set out very frankly.
A Japanese butler, whom Manton called Huroki, took our hats and
retreated with a certain emanating effluvium of subtlety such as
I had known only once before, when the Oriental attendant left me
on the occasion of my only visit to an opium den in Chinatown.
A moment later Millard, who had been waiting, rose to greet us.
I would have guessed him to be an author, I believe, had I met
him at random anywhere in the city. He affected all the
professional marks and mannerisms, and yet he did so gracefully.
I noticed, in the little hall where Huroki placed our headgear, a
single-jointed Malacca stick, a dark-colored and soft-brimmed
felt hat, and a battered brief-case. That was Millard,
unquestionably. The man himself was tall and loose-limbed, heavy
with an appearance of slenderness. His face was handsome, rather
intellectual in spite of rather than because of large horn-rimmed
glasses. His mouth and chin showed strength and determination,
which was a surprise to me. In fact, in no way did he seem to
reveal the artist. Lawrence Millard was a commercial writer, a
dreamer never.
First he greeted Enid, taking both of her hands in his. In this
one brief moment all my own little romance went glimmering, for I
could not blind myself to the softening of his expression, the
welcoming light in hers, the long interval in which their fingers
remained interlaced.
And then another thought came to me, hastened, fed and fattened
upon my jealousy. The sealed testimony in the case of Millard vs.
Millard! Could Enid, by any chance, be concerned in that?
The next moment I dismissed the thought, or at least I thought I
did so. I tried to picture Enid's work on the Coast, to remember
the short time she had been in the East. It was possible Millard
had known her before she went to Los Angeles, but unlikely.
Millard next turned to Kennedy.
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