THE PRESS AGENT “I hardly know how to thank you, Mr. Vincent,” spoke Frank Durham. “Don’t try to,” replied the ventriloquist, in his usual offhand way. Frank, practically a beginner in the profession, and Hal Vincent, a seasoned graduate, were saying good-bye to each other on the steps of the building which contained the offices and ware rooms of the great National Film Exchange. For several days the ears of our young hero had buzzed with little besides “movies” chatter. When Frank had first gone into the business and had bid in at auction the outfit now at Fairlands, he had learned the basis of the trade through an interesting day spent at a motion picture supply house in the small city near his home. He found New York on a larger scale, however. Even within the few months that had elapsed since he and his chums had started the Wonderland photo playhouse there had been improvements, innovations and new wrinkles without number. Frank now came in contact with these. It was a great advantage to him that he had Vincent to act as guide and adviser. The latter entered into the spirit of the occasion with the zest of an expert showing a novice the ground he has so often traversed. Vincent was not only active and obliging, but he was observant and shrewd. He knew the best supply sources in the city and how to handle them. It embarrassed Frank the first time Vincent, in his breezy showman’s way, introduced him to the proprietor of the National Film Exchange. According to the versatile and voluble ventriloquist, Frank and his chums, Randy and Pep, were young prodigies who had built up a mammoth photo playhouse enterprise at Fairlands out of nothing and had scored a phenomenal success. And still further, according to Vincent, Frank had secured a most favorable contract at Seaside Park, and was about to reap profits from a project that would set the pace in summer outing resorts for the season. “Now this is confidential, Byllesby,” observed Vincent, buttonholing the movies man and assuming a dreadfully important air, as he glanced mysteriously about the place as if fearful of eaves-droppers--“this is probably one of a chain of shows Durham may manage. Don’t lisp it to anybody, but one of his backers is a lady--well, I think she is rated at a cool half-million in real coin. You won’t have to wait for your money from the Durham combination, so hand out only the best and latest on the closest terms--understand?”