“Well, maybe.” Montague girl seemed to be considering. “Say, how about this, Jeff? He’s awful hungry, see, and he’s begun to eat the celery and everything he can reach, and when the mix-up starts he just eats on and pays no attention to it. Never even looks up, see what I mean? The fight spreads the whole length of the table; right around Rollo half-a-dozen murders are going on and he just eats and pays no attention. And he’s still eating when they’re all down and out, and don’t know a thing till Charlie or someone crowns him with the punch-bowl. How about it? Ain’t there a laugh in that?” Baird had listened respectfully and now patted the girl on a shoulder. “Good work, Kid! That’s a gag, all right. The little bean’s sparking on all six, ain’t it? Drop around again. We need folks like you. Now, listen, Rollo--you there, Rollo, come here and get this. Now, listen--when the fight begins--” Merton Gill turned decisively away. Such coarse foolery as this was too remote from Beulah Baxter who, somewhere on that lot, was doing something really, as her interview had put it, distinctive and worth while. He lingered only to hear the last of Baird’s instructions to Rollo and the absurd guests, finding some sinister fascination in the man’s talk. Baird then turned to the girl, who had also started off. “Hang around, Flips. Why the rush?” “Got to beat it over to Number Four.” “Got anything good there?” “Nothing that will get me any billing. Been waiting two hours now just to look frenzied in a mob.” “Well, say, come around and see me some time.” “All right, Jeff. Of course I’m pretty busy. When I ain’t working I’ve got to think about my art.” “No, this is on the level. Listen, now, sister, I got another two reeler to pull off after this one, then I’m goin’ to do something new, see? Got a big idea. Probably something for you in it. Drop in t’ the office and talk it over. Come in some time next week. ‘F I ain’t there I’ll be on the lot some place. Don’t forget, now.” Merton Gill, some distance from the Buckeye set, waited to note what direction the Montague girl would take. She broke away presently, glanced brazenly in his direction, and tripped lightly out the nearest exit. He went swiftly to one at the far end of the building, and was again in the exciting street. But the afternoon was drawing in and the street had lost much of its vivacity. It would surely be too late for any glimpse of his heroine. And his mind was already cluttered with impressions from his day’s adventure. He went out through the office, meaning to thank the casting director for the great favour she had shown him, but she was gone. He hoped the headache had not driven her home. If she were to suffer again he hoped it would be some morning. He would have the Eezo wafers in one pocket and a menthol pencil in the other. And she would again extend to him the freedom of that wonderful city.