VIII
LAWRENCE MILLARD
It struck me on the trip to Manton's apartment that the film peoplewere wholly unfeeling, were even uninterested in the death of StellaLamar except where it interfered with their business arrangements.Werner excused himself and did not accompany us, on the score of thecomplete realignment of production necessary to place Enid in Stella'spart. It seemed to me that he felt a certain relish in the problem,that he was almost glad of the circumstances which brought Enid to him.His last words to Manton were, to be sure to have Millard recast theaction of the scenes wherever possible, so as to give Enid the betterchance to display her own personality.
I marveled as I realized that the remains of Stella Lamar were scarcelycold before these people were figuring on the star to take her place.
As Manton talked, the thought crossed my mind that such a man needed nopublicity manager. I dismissed the idea that he might be capable evenof murder for publicity. But at least it was an insight into somemethods of the game.
As our car mounted to the Concourse and turned Manhattanward I wasdistinctly unhappy. Manton monopolized Enid completely, insisting upontalking over everything under the sun, from the wardrobe she would needin Stella's part and the best sort of personal advertising campaign forher, to the first available evening when she could go to dinner withhim.
She sat in the rear seat, between Kennedy and the promoter, which didnot add to my sense of comfort. The only consoling feature from myviewpoint was that I was admirably placed to study her, and that Mantonheld her so engrossed that I had every opportunity to do so unnoticed.Because she had overwhelmed me so completely I did nothing of the kind.I knew we were riding with the most beautiful woman in New York, but Idid not know the color of her hair or eyes, or even the sort of hat ordress she wore. In short I was movie-struck.
We stopped at last at a huge, ornate apartment house on Riverside Driveand Manton led the way through the wide Renaissance entrance and theluxurious marble hall to the elevator. His quarters, on the top floor,facing the river, were almost exotic in the lavishness and barbaricsplendor of their furnishings. My first impression as we entered theplace was that Manton had purposely planned the dim lights of richamber and the clinging Oriental fragrance hovering about everything soas to produce an alluring and enticing atmosphere. The chairs and wideupholstered window seats, the soft, yielding divans in at least twocorners, with their miniature mountains of tiny pillows, all werecomfortable with the comfort one associates with lotus eating and thathomeward journey soon to be forgotten. There was the smoke of incense,unmistakably. On a taboret were cigarettes and cigars and through heavycurtains I caught a glimpse of a sideboard and decanters, filled andset out very frankly.
A Japanese butler, whom Manton called Huroki, took our hats andretreated with a certain emanating effluvium of subtlety such as I hadknown only once before, when the Oriental attendant left me on theoccasion of my only visit to an opium den in Chinatown.
A moment later Millard, who had been waiting, rose to greet us.
I would have guessed him to be an author, I believe, had I met him atrandom anywhere in the city. He affected all the professional marks andmannerisms, and yet he did so gracefully. I noticed, in the little hallwhere Huroki placed our headgear, a single-jointed Malacca stick, adark-colored and soft-brimmed felt hat, and a battered brief-case. Thatwas Millard, unquestionably. The man himself was tall and loose-limbed,heavy with an appearance of slenderness. His face was handsome, ratherintellectual in spite of rather than because of large horn-rimmedglasses. His mouth and chin showed strength and determination, whichwas a surprise to me. In fact, in no way did he seem to reveal theartist. Lawrence Millard was a commercial writer, a dreamer never.
First he greeted Enid, taking both of her hands in his. In this onebrief moment all my own little romance went glimmering, for I could notblind myself to the softening of his expression, the welcoming light inhers, the long interval in which their fingers remained interlaced.
And then another thought came to me, hastened, fed and fattened upon myjealousy. The sealed testimony in the case of Millard vs. Millard!Could Enid, by any chance, be concerned in that?
The next moment I dismissed the thought, or at least I thought I didso. I tried to picture Enid's work on the Coast, to remember the shorttime she had been in the East. It was possible Millard had known herbefore she went to Los Angeles, but unlikely.
Millard next turned to Kennedy.
"I just learned of the tragedy a short while ago, Professor," heexclaimed. "It is terrible, and so amazingly sudden, too! It--it hasupset me completely. Tell me, have you found anything? Have youdiscovered any possible clue? Is there anything at all I can do tohelp?"
"I would like to ask a few questions," Kennedy explained.
"By all means!"
He extended a hand to me and I found it damp and flabby, as though hewere more concerned than his manner betrayed. He faced Kennedy again,however, immediately.
"Stella and I didn't make a go of our married life at all," he went on,frankly enough. "I was very sorry, too, because I was genuinely fond ofher."
"How recently have you seen her?"
"Stella? Not for over a month--perhaps longer than that."
Manton took Enid by the arm. It was evidently her first visit to theapartment and he was anxious to show her his various treasures.
Millard, Kennedy, and I found a corner affording a view out over theHudson. After Kennedy had described, briefly, the circumstances ofStella's death, at Millard's insistence, he produced the note he hadfound in her handbag. The author recognized it at once, without readingit.
"Yes, I wrote that!" Then just a trace of emotion crept into his voice."I was too late," he murmured.
"What was it you wanted to say?" Kennedy inquired.
Millard's glance traveled to Manton and Enid, a troubled something inhis expression. I could see that the promoter was making the most ofhis tete-a-tete with the girl, but she seemed perfectly at ease andquite capable of handling the man, and I, certainly, was more disturbedat the interest of Millard.
"I thought there was something about the business I ought to tellStella," he answered, finally. "Manton Pictures is pretty shaky."
"Oh! Then Manton wasn't talking for effect when he told Miss Faye thatthe company was broke?"
"No, indeed! In fact, didn't Enid make her agreement with Mantonpersonally? That's what I advised her to do."
Kennedy nodded. "But is Manton himself financially sound?"
Millard laughed. "Lloyd Manton always has a dozen things up his sleeve.He may have a million or he may owe a million." In the author's voicewas no respect for his employer. A touch of malice crept into his tone."Manton will make money for anyone who can make money for him," headded, "that is, provided he has to do it."
Kennedy and I exchanged glances. This was close to an assertion ofdownright dishonesty. At that moment Huroki stole in on padded feet, asnoiseless as a wraith.
"Yes, Huroki?" His master turned, inquiringly.
"Mr. Leigh," was the butler's announcement.
"Show him in," said Manton; then he hurried over to us. "CourtlandtLeigh, the banker, you know."
I imagine I showed my surprise, for Kennedy smiled as he caught myface. Leigh was a bigger man than Phelps, of the highest standing indowntown financial circles. If Manton had interested Courtlandt Leighin moving pictures he was a wizard indeed.
It seemed to me that the banker was hardly in the apartment before hesaw Enid, and from that moment the girl engrossed him to the exclusionof everything else. For Enid, I will say that she was a wonder. Sheseemed to grasp the man's instant infatuation and immediately she setabout to complete the conquest, all without permitting him so much asto touch her.
"You'll excuse us?" remarked Manton, easily, as he drew Phelps and Enidaway.
"See!" exclaimed Millard, in a low voice, frowning now as he watchedthe girl. "Manton's clever! I've never known him unable to raise money,and that's why I wa
nted Enid to have her contract with him personally.If Manton Pictures blows up he'd put her in some other company."
"He has more than one?" This seemed to puzzle Kennedy.
"He's been interested in any number on the side," Millard explained."Now he's formed another, but it's a secret so far. You've heard ofFortune Features, perhaps?"
Kennedy looked at me, but I shook my head.
"What is 'Fortune Features'?" Kennedy asked the question of Millard.
"Just another company in which Manton has an interest," he replied,casually. "That was why I said I advised that Enid make her contractpersonally with Manton. If Manton Pictures goes up, then he will haveto swing her into Fortune Features--the other Manton enterprise, don'tyou see?" He paused, then added: "By the way, don't say anythingoutside about that. It isn't generally known--and as soon as anyonedoes hear it, everybody in the film game will hear it. You don't knowhow gossip travels in this business."
Kennedy asked a few personal questions about Stella, but Millard'sanswers indicated that he had not contemplated or even hoped for areconciliation, that his interest in his former wife had becomethoroughly platonic. Just now, however, he seemed unable to keep Mantonout of his mind.
"Oh, Manton's clever!" he said, confidentially to Kennedy, as hewatched the promoter deftly maneuvering Leigh and Enid into a positionside by side.
And indeed, as Millard talked, I began to get some inkling of howreally clever was the game which Manton played.
"Why," continued Millard, warming up to his story--for, to him, aboveall, a good story was something that had to be told, whatever mightresult from it--"I have known him to pay a visit some afternoon to WallStreet--go down there to beard the old lions in their den. He alwaysused to show up about the closing time of the market.
"I've known him to get into the office of some one like Leigh orPhelps. Then he'll begin to talk about his brilliant prospects in thecompany he happens to be promoting at the time. If you listen to Mantonyou're lost. I know it--I've listened," he added, whimsically.
"Well," he continued, "the banker will begin to get restless after abit--not at Manton, but at not getting away. 'My car is outside,'Manton will say. 'Let me drive you uptown.' Of course, there's nothingelse for the banker to do but to accept, and when he gets into Manton'scar he's glad he did. I don't know anyone who picks out such luxuriousthings as he does. Why, that man could walk right out along AutomobileRow, broke, and some one would GIVE him a car."
"How does he do it?" I put the question to him.
"How does a fish swim?" said Millard, smiling. "He's clever, I tellyou. Once he has the banker in the car, perhaps they stop for a fewmoments at a club. At any rate, Manton usually contrives it so that, asthey approach his apartment, he has his talk all worked up to the pointwhere the banker is genuinely interested. You know there's almostnothing people will talk to you longer about than moving pictures.
"Well, on one pretext or another, Manton usually persuades the bankerto step up here for a moment. Poor simp! It's all over with him then.I'll never forget how impressed Phelps was with this place the firsttime. There, now, watch this fellow, Leigh. He thinks this looks like amillion dollars. We're all here, playing Manton's game. We're hismenagerie--he's Barnum. I tell you, Leigh's lost, lost!"
I did not know quite what to make of Millard's cynicism. Was he tryingto be witty at Manton's expense? I noticed that he did not smilehimself. Although he was talking to us, his attention was not really onus. He was still watching Enid.
"Then, along would happen Stella, as if by chance."
Millard paused bitterly, as though he did not quite relish the tellingit, but felt that Kennedy would pry it out of him or some one elsefinally, and he might as well have it over with frankly.
"Yes," he said, thoughtfully, "but it all wasn't really Manton's fault,after all. Stella liked the Bohemian sort of life too much--and Mantondoes the Bohemian up here wonderfully. It was too much for Stella.Then, when Phelps came along and was roped in, she fell for him. It wasgood-by, poor Millard! I wasn't rapid enough for that crowd."
I almost began to sympathize with Millard in the association intowhich, for his living's sake, his art had forced him. I realized, too,that really the banker, the wise one from Wall Street, was the sucker.
Indeed, as Millard told it, I could easily account for the temptationof Stella. To a degree, I suppose, it was really her fault, for sheought to have known the game, shown more sense than to be taken in bythe thing. I wondered at the continued relations of Millard withManton, under the circumstances. However, I reflected, if Stella hadchosen to play the little fool, why should Millard have allowed that toruin his own chances?
What interested me now was that Millard did not seem to relish theattentions which the banker was paying to Enid. Was Manton framing upthe same sort of game again on Leigh?
However, when Enid shot a quick glance at Millard in an aside of theconversation, accompanied by a merry wink, I saw that Millard, thoughstill doubtful, was much more at ease.
Evidently there was a tacit understanding between the two.
Kennedy glanced over at me. Bit by bit the checkered history of StellaLamar's life was coming to light.
I began to see more clearly. Deserting Millard and fascinated by Mantonand his game, she had been used to interest Phelps in the company. Inturn she had been dazzled by the glitter of the Phelps gold. She hadnot proved loyal even to the producer and promoter.
Perhaps, I reflected, that was why Millard was so apparentlycomplacent. One could not, under the circumstances, have expected himto display wild emotion. His attitude had been that of one who thought,"She almost broke me; let her break some one else."
That, however, was not his attitude toward Enid now. Indeed, he seemedgenuinely concerned that she should not follow in the same steps.
Later, I learned that was not all of the history of Stella. Fifteenhundred dollars a week of her own money, besides lavish presents, hadbeen too much for her. Even Phelps's money had had no over-burdeningattraction for her. The world--at least that part of it which spendsmoney on Broadway, had been open to her. Jack Daring had charmed herfor a while--hence the engagement. Of Shirley, I did not even know.Perhaps the masterful crime roles he played might have promised somenew thrill, with the possibility that they expressed something latentin his life. At any rate, she had dilettanted about him, to theamazement and dismay of Marilyn. That we knew.
The dinner hour was approaching, and, in spite of the urgent invitationof Manton, Leigh was forced to excuse himself to keep a previousappointment. I felt, though, that he would have broken it if only Enidhad added her urging. But she did not, much to the relief of Millard.Manton took it in good part. Perhaps he was wise enough to reflect thatmany other afternoons were in the lap of the future.
"What is Manton up to?" Kennedy spoke to Millard. "Is it off with theold and on with the new? Is Phelps to be cast aside like a squeezed-outlemon, and Leigh taken on for a new citrus fruit?"
Millard smiled. He said nothing, but the knowing glance wasconfirmation enough that in his opinion Kennedy had expressed the stateof affairs correctly.
Millard hastened to the side of Enid at once and we learned then thatthey had a theater engagement together and that Millard had the ticketsin his pocket. Once more I realized it was no new or recentacquaintanceship between these two. Again I wondered what woman hadbeen named in Stella Lamar's divorce suit, and again dismissed thethought that it could be Enid.
Kennedy took his hat and handed me mine. "We must eat, Walter, as wellas the rest of them," he remarked, when Manton led the way to the door.
I was loath to leave and I suppose I showed it. The truth was thatlittle Enid Faye had captivated me. It was hard to tear myself away.
In the entrance I hesitated, wondering whether I should say good-by toher. She seemed engrossed with Millard.
A second time she took me clean off my feet. While I stood there,foolishly, she left Millard and rushed up, extending her little handand a
llowing it to rest for a moment clasped in mine.
"We didn't have a single opportunity to get acquainted, Mr. Jameson,"she complained, real regret in the soft cadences of her voice. "Won'tyou phone me sometime? My name's in the book, or I'll be at thestudio--"
I was tongue-tied. My glance, shifting from hers because I was suddenlyafraid of myself, encountered the gaze of Millard from behind. Now Idetected the unmistakable fire of jealousy in the eyes of the author. Ipresume I was never built to be a heavy lover. Up and down my spinewent a shiver of fear. I dropped Enid's hand and turned away abruptly.