The Disraeli-matrix swept on into oratorical periods that made the wallsring. The golden tongue played arpeggios with logic.
"I see," the dazed Watt murmured, allowing himself to be shepherdedtoward the door. "Yes, yes, of course. Then--suppose you drop over to myplace tonight, Martin. After I get the Eden signature, I'll have yourrelease prepared. Hm-m. Functional genius...." His voice fell to a low,crooning mutter, and he moved quietly out of the door.
Martin laid a hand on Erika's arm as she followed him.
"Wait a second," he said. "Keep him away from the studio until we getthe release. St. Cyr can still out-shout me any time. But he's hooked.We--"
"Nick," Erika said, looking searchingly into his face. "What'shappened?"
"Tell you tonight," Martin said hastily, hearing a distant bellow thatmight be the voice of St. Cyr approaching. "When I have time I'm goingto sweep you off your feet. Did you know that I've worshipped you fromafar all my life? But right now, get Watt out of the way. Hurry!"
Erika cast a glance of amazed bewilderment at him as he thrust her outof the door. Martin thought there was a certain element of pleasure inthe surprise.
* * * * *
"Where is Tolliver?" The loud, annoyed roar of St. Cyr made Martinwince. The director was displeased, it appeared, because only inCostumes could a pair of trousers be found large enough to fit him. Hetook it as a personal affront. "What have you done with Tolliver?" hebellowed.
"Louder, please," Martin said insolently. "I can't hear you."
"DeeDee," St. Cyr shouted, whirling toward the lovely star, who hadn'tstirred from her rapturous admiration of DeeDee in technicolor overhead."Where is Tolliver?"
Martin started. He had quite forgotten DeeDee.
"You don't know, do you, DeeDee?" he prompted quickly.
"Shut up," St. Cyr snapped. "Answer me, you--" He added a briskpolysyllable in Mixo-Lydian, with the desired effect. DeeDee wrinkledher flawless brow.
"Tolliver went away, I think. I've got it mixed up with the picture. Hewent home to meet Nick Martin, didn't he?"
"See?" Martin interrupted, relieved. "No use expecting DeeDee to--"
"But Martin is _here_!" St. Cyr shouted. "Think, think!"
"Was the contract release in the rushes?" DeeDee asked vaguely.
"A contract release?" St. Cyr roared. "What is this? Never will I permitit, never, never, never! DeeDee, answer me--where has Watt gone?"
"He went somewhere with that agent," DeeDee said. "Or was that in therushes too?"
"But where, where, where?"
"They went to Atlantis," DeeDee announced with an air of faint triumph.
"No!" shouted St. Cyr. "That was the _picture_! The mermaid came fromAtlantis, not Watt!"
"Tolliver didn't say he was coming from Atlantis," DeeDee murmured,unruffled. "He said he was going to Atlantis. Then he was going to meetNick Martin at his house tonight and give him his contract release."
"When?" St. Cyr demanded furiously. "Think, DeeDee? What time did--"
"DeeDee," Martin said, stepping forward with suave confidence, "youcan't remember a thing, can you?" But DeeDee was too subnormal to reacteven to a Disraeli-matrix. She merely smiled placidly at him.
"Out of my way, you writer!" roared St. Cyr, advancing upon Martin. "Youwill get no contract release! You do not waste St. Cyr's time and getaway with it! This I will not endure. I fix you as I fixed Ed Cassidy!"
Martin drew himself up and froze St. Cyr with an insolent smile. Hishand toyed with an imaginary monocle. Golden periods were hanging at theend of his tongue. There only remained to hypnotize St. Cyr as he hadhypnotized Watt. He drew a deep breath to unlease the floods of hiseloquence--
And St. Cyr, also too subhuman to be impressed by urbanity, hit Martin aclout on the jaw.
It could never have happened in the British Parliament.