The unrepeatable innuendoes that followed were not good to hear, but Adele Leamington listened in scornful silence. She was only too relieved (for the girl’s fury was eloquent) to know that she had not been speaking the truth. For one horrible moment Adele had believed her, knowing that Knebworth would not hesitate to sacrifice her or any other member of the company if, by so doing, the values of the picture could be strengthened. Knebworth was alone when his ex-star was announced, and his first instinct was not to see her. Whatever his intentions might have been, she determined his action by appearing in the doorway just as he was making up his mind what line to take. He fixed her with his gimlet eyes for a second, and then, with a jerk of his head, called her in. When they were alone: “There are many things I admire about you, Stella, and not the least of them is your nerve. But it is no good coming to me with any of that let-bygones-be-bygones stuff. You’re not appearing in this picture, and maybe you’ll never appear in another picture of mine.” “Is that so?” she drawled, sitting down uninvited, and taking from her bag a little gold cigarette case. “You’ve come in to tell me that you’ve got influence with a number of people who are financially interested in this corporation,” said Jack, to her dismay. She wondered if there were telephone communication between the dressing-room and the office, then remembered there wasn’t. “I’ve handled a good many women in my time,” he went on, “and I’ve never had to fire one but she didn’t produce the President, Vice-President or Treasurer and hold them over my head with their feet ready to kick out my brains! And, Stella, none of those hold-ups have ever got past. People who are financially interested in a company may love you to death, but they’ve got to have the money to love you with; and if I don’t make pictures that sell, somebody is short of a perfectly good diamond necklace.” “We’ll see if Sir Gregory thinks the same way,” she said defiantly, and Jack Knebworth whistled. “Gregory Penne, eh? I didn’t know you had friends in that quarter. Yes, he is a stockholder in the company, but he doesn’t hold enough to make any difference. I guess he told you that he did. And if he held ninety-nine per cent. of it, Stella, it wouldn’t make any difference to old Jack Knebworth, because old Jack Knebworth’s got a contract which gives him carte blanche, and the only getting out clause is the one that gets _me_ out! You couldn’t touch me, Stella, no, ma’am!” “I suppose you’re going to blacklist me?” she said sulkily. This was the one punishment she most feared—that Jack Knebworth should circulate the story of her unforgivable sin of letting down a picture when it was half-shot.