In the Women's Lounge, the dancers in black rehearsal leotards were lined up before a wall of mirrors, headed by Charlie Hansel who was short, ebullient and graceful. They were watching their reflections intently as they memorized Charlie's new routines, and complaining chronically as only dancers can complain. Cooper was at the piano with Johnny Plummer's score, working out the beats for Hansel. "You're taking it in four bar sections," Cooper was saying. "And that's throwing your rhythm off." "Lambkin, it's written in fours. That Johnny Plummer! He's a four-cornered one, he is." Hansel spoke without taking his eyes off his reflection. None of the other dancers did either. This is not vanity. Like the complaining, it's an occupational disease. "You don't understand," Cooper explained. "The music's in phrases, not bars. Johnny's written two longs, a short and a medium. Count ten twice, then four and then eight. You'll come out right." "Samkin, there's no arguing with the composer of 'We're The Most.' He's a genius one, he is. Ready, kidkins? And!--" They went into the routine, counting and complaining. Cooper scowled at the compliment and began playing. Lennox backed out of the lounge. On the main ballroom floor, the sets for the show had been chalked and Raeburn Sachs was directing Mig Mason and the rest of the cast in the "Man Without A Country." Sol Eggleston, the network camera director, was prowling around the scene, framing it in his hands and making notes on his camera plot. This is a minute by minute schedule of the placement and occupation of all three cameras for the duration of the show, including lens settings and time allowance for changes of setting and position. When Eggleston saw Lennox, he motioned sharply and brought him over to a table covered with blueprints and light plots. Eggleston was fat, efficient and asthmatic. Lennox liked him. He liked all the technical men. They knew their business and never wasted time promoting delusions of genius. "We're in trouble," Eggleston wheezed. "Camera trouble." "Oh God! Don't tell me I've asked for crossed cameras again." "No. It's Sachs. He's got an idea for a trick shot on the Nolan." "Something fresh and different, no doubt. What?" "He wants to fly the 3. Hang it from the grid over the stage and shoot straight down on the courtroom scene." "Damn him! It isn't a bad idea." "Sure, but can we shoot the rest of the show with two cameras?" "How do you mean?" "It'll take an hour to fly the 3. It'll take another hour to get it down." "Why so long?" "The grid is practically inaccessible at the Venice. You have to go up a ladder from the fly-gallery, and there's no catwalk on the grid bars." "I see." "So do you want to immobilize the 3 for one shot? You want to shoot the rest of the show with two?" "We can't do it." "Tell Sachs." "Can we get an extra camera for the shot?" Eggleston shook his head. "The network hasn't enough to go round as it is. Talk Sachs out of it."