by John Collier
«Not in the least. I like the baroque; I admire Titian.»
«I confess I like my comfort. I like to travel with my own things. I had some little architectural changes made also.»
«Excellent taste, if I may say so, and excellent judgment!»
He knew that I was impressed, but I knew that he wished to impress me. This made us even, except of course that he still had the money.
«I shall put that compliment to the test,» said he. «Win you trust my taste so far as to let me give you a completely new cocktail?»
«I look forward to an important experience. How pleasant to talk like this! Which, of us started it? I feel that at any moment we may exchange bows.»
The new cocktail was a sizable affair, with something of the cloudy opalescence of absinthe, and one of those vague but fiery flavours — memories, regrets, contempt for regrets. I swallowed the first; the second swallowed me; I emerged, rather larger and greedier than life, in the midst of a banquet and a conversation. «Have a little more wine, Mr. Rythym. As I was saying, I should like to be like the recognized leader of a revived and superior film industry.»
«All you need is money, and, of course, talent»
«You are with me then?»
«My agent permitting. A sordid soul, I must warn you!»
«He is to join us later this evening. I think I can talk to him in a language he will understand. Have a little brandy, Mr. Rythym. We'll drink to a long and happy association.»
Next day, I visited Joe's offices at an early hour. Our eyebrows waved like the antennae of encountering ants. «Well, Joe? Did I sign something last night?»
«Think of a number,» said he.
«Come on, I've been thinking of it all night.»
«Multiply it by five,» said he, smiling.
«Impossible! I'm not Einstein.»
«Here's the contract, Charles. See for yourself.»
«What a lot of pages! Hey! Here's rather a long string of options!»
«Well, like you said last night — 'For all eternity, at that figure!'»
«Joe, I'd like to read this contract over with you, word by word.»
«Sorry,» said Joe. «I've got another client waiting. Did you notice her?»
«I saw, I must admit, what seemed like a patch of sunlight in your ante-room.»
«That was Miss Belinda Windhover from England. Take another look as you go out»
«Before I do that, Joe, tell me some more about that fellow Mahound.»
«Well,» said my agent, hedging a little, «what did you think of him yourself?»
«Seems to have been everywhere.»
«He certainly does.»
«Knows everybody.»
«He seems to, indeed.»
«Amazing eyes, Joe.»
«Yes, Charles, quite extraordinary.»
«Anyway,» said I, «he seems to have pots of money.»
«Rich as the … Rich as Croesus,» cried Joe, at once becoming his sunny self again.
«He must be older than he seems, Joe. He described an incident in the Boer War.»
«Did he, indeed? Ha! Ha! I thought you were going to say the Crusades.»
«What's that? He didn't describe an incident in the Crusades?»
«He did, though, to me. Of course, people say anything to an agent»
«Joe, does this Mahound remind you of anybody? Is his name in any way familiar?»
«I never could fit a name to a face, Charles. But I'll swear I've never seen him before.»
«No, but frankly, Joe,» said I uneasily, «who do you think he is?»
«It's not my business, old chap, to think who people are. That would never do. My job is to sell a client»
«You've sold me, Joe. Damned if you haven't! Damned anyway! Hell!»
«Look here, old boy. You don't want to get temperamental. After all, it's pictures. Think of the people I've sold you to in the past»
«Yes, Joe. But these damned options. You didn't really give him options on me for all eternity?»
«Well, it's just a phrase.»
«A phrase! Oh, boy!»
«After all, he's a wonderful organizer. I bet he'll get some amazing effects, too. You work well with him, Rythym, and you've got a blazing future.»
«Joe, this contract's got to be bust. I'm out»
«Sorry, old chap, it's cast-iron. Besides, think of the money. Think of me. An agent needs his percentage, Charles. Anyway, he may not be what you suppose. You're a writer, a dreamer; you've got to remember this is the twentieth century. Maybe he's just some old guy who found out monkey-glands in the Crusades or somewhere.»
«With those ears?»
«Maybe he was a money lender in those days. Maybe he got 'em clipped a bit.»
«Those nails?»
«Look, Rythym, you don't want to start being satirical. I know what producers are. I'm a man of taste, same as yourself. All the same, this is the industry, you know. I do a lot of business with these fellows. I can't go picking 'em to pieces just for a laugh.»
«Joe, I think I'm going to walk about the streets a bit»
«That's the stuff. I knew you'd shape up to it. God! I'd give the world to undo it, Charles. I just made a fool mistake.»
I went out, passing Miss Belinda Windhover on the way. She looked like an angel. What was that to me? That evening I called again at the Beverly-Ritz, and this time I was shown up to Mr. Mahound's suite. His dressing jacket was stupendous.
«Mr. Mahound, were you by any chance at the Crusades?»
«Mr. Rythym, that was a very interesting assignment»
«It makes you rather old, doesn't it?»
«Well, one's as old as one feels. I feel devilish young today, my dear Rythym. To be in the Beverly-Ritz Hotel, signing up talent, about to re-create the American Film Industry!»
«Avaunt!»
«My dear fellow! This is the twentieth century.»
«Well then, clear off!»
«Have a cigar.»
«Listen. I'm a tough customer.»
«So am I. Which reminds me: I thought we might do a new version of Jekyll and Hyde. I could play the lead. Watch!»
«Phew!»
«Queen! Everyone hates seeing me like that. There was a saint I once looked in on. She said she'd rather spend the rest of her life on red-hot needles than see me like that for one second. Flattering, in a way. But don't you worry, Rythym, you and I are going to get along like blazes.»
«Yes! Yes, indeed! Stay as you are now, that's all I see that I'm in for it. I'll do anything you like.»
«That's what I like about writers. Well, now, what are we going to do about making films?»
«Take a friendly word of advice. You don't want to make pictures. It's nothing but worry. Besides, you'll get mixed up with a lot of actors.»
«I have always found the players very congenial.»
«I guess you've been rather out of things recently. You haven't seen some of our stars.»
«My dear Rythym, forgive me, but I'm supposed to have rather a good way with people. As for the worry — pooh! I've been a top executive in one of the biggest organizations in existence. Nothing but grumbling and complaints! Now I've retired, and I mean to enjoy myself.»
«Well, why not sit back?» said I. «Sit back and take it easy?»
«You should see my throne! No, my dear fellow, I'm crazy to start in making pictures. You concentrate on finding a story. I'll stay here to interview the press. And, by the way, there's someone coming here to see me soon. Your excellent agent found her for me. A clean English girl. Fresh! Unspoiled!»
«I know that sort»
«I think not, Rythym. She's a mere child! I'm going to groom her for stardom. In fact, she may be here already.» He rang a bell. «Has a Miss Windhover arrived?»
«Yes, sir. She's waiting.»
«Show her in.»
In a moment Miss Windhover had entered, again like a patch of sunshine, outdoing the costly electric glare.
«Oh
, Mr. Mahound. I … I … I …»
He patted her hand reassuringly. «Now, now, my dear! Not nervous, surely? Always remember that you have talent, the thing that money can't buy. Remember that. It will give you poise. Miss Marlene Dietrich has poise. I want you to have poise, too.»
«If you knew what it's been like, Mr. Mahound. The struggle for small parts. The cheap boarding-houses. And Daddy's been so cross. And Mummy cries. Why are one's people always such snobs? They're dears, of course, old-fashioned dears. Why are one's people always so old-fashioned?»
«There, there, my dear. It's all over now. Think of the big lights. Wealth! Fame! Parties in Beverly Hills!»
«And my art!»
«Yes. Yes. Your art.»
«It comes first. And, of course, doggies.»
«Yes, indeed. My dear Rythym, Miss Windhover loves dogs. Could you, possibly… ?»
Not too pleased, I took the telephone and called Room Service.
«Some dogs. For Miss Belinda Windhover.»
«Sorry, sir. Pet-shops all shut by now.»
«Do you call this service? Are there none in the hotel?»
«Only Myra de Falla's.»
«She's slipping. Send 'em up.»
The page soon arrived with two Borzois, four Scotties, and a pug. Belinda Windhover was delighted. «Oh, doggies!»
«See how she kisses them, my dear Rythym. You think she will make a star?»
«Listen, Mahound, I can see you're going to spoil that girl.»
«Nonsense. I flatter myself I have a way with people. I want you to take her out, study her psychology, write her a big part.»
«Let her study the part. To hell with her psychology!»
«Oh, come, my dear Rythym!»
«I won't,» said I. «That's flat.»
«Well! Well! I say, just look at this parquet floor. One of the blocks is loose.»
As I looked, he dislodged a block with his toe. The effect was extraordinary. I seemed to be looking down to an infinite depth, at a vast number of highly animated figures in a flame-coloured setting. Mr. Mahound edged the block into place again, and the vision was gone.
«Phew!»
«What did you say, my dear Rythym?»
«I said, 'yes.'»
«You will spend the evening with Miss Windhover?»
«Yes.»
«And explore her psychology?»
«Yes.»
«Ah, here are the reporters! Come in, gentlemen! Come to. I want you all to meet Miss Belinda Windhover. She gave up a refined home for her art. Write it down.»
«OK. We know it. Old-fashioned parents.»
«Well, take a photograph. Here she is, being groomed for stardom in Mahound Pictures Incorporated. Here are her beloved dogs.»
«O.K. We know them. Hallo, Mirza! Hallo, Bobbles! Remember when Nancy North had 'em, boys?»
«She's slipped.»
«And Lucille Lacey. She was always took with the pug.»
«She's slipped, too.»
«Maybe they ain't house-trained. O.K. Frame up. What about this gent?»
«I'm a writer.»
«Fine! You can hold the leg of my tripod. O.K. Shoot Miss Belinda Windhover. And you're Mr. Mahound?»
«I will tell you my intentions with regard to the renascence of the American Film Industry.»
«Sure. Let's get Belinda with the big white dogs. They're class. Where's your sables, Miss Windhover?»
«Sables for Miss Windhover, my dear Rythym.»
«Yes.» Annoyed, I took up the telephone again.
«Sables.»
«Sorry, sir. Can't buy sables at this hour.»
«What sort of joint is this? Are there none in the hotel?»
«Plenty, sir. There's Miss Pauline Powell's.»
«She's slipping. Bring 'em up.»
Soon the photographs were all taken. The pressmen withdrew.
«Now, young people, I'm going to send you off to make friends with one another.»
«Oh, Mr. Mahound, aren't you coming along?» cried Belinda with an arch pout and wiggle.
«Call me Nicholas, my dear. Tonight, alas, I can't be with you. I've a great deal to attend to.»
«But,» said she, «do you think I ought to be seen about with a writer?»
«Mr. Rythym is a very distinguished writer, my dear. What's more, he's my right-hand man.»
«Yes, and I'm going to explore your psychology.»
This cheered the future star a little. «I want to know all about my psychology,» said she as we went down in the elevator. «I'm not going to be an ordinary actress, Mr. Rythym. I'm going to be intellectual. And at the same time I like nothing better than cooking, just simple things, in a simple play-suit. I'm going to ask Clark Gable, and Katharine Hepburn, when I get properly known, and Gary Cooper, and give them little cookies I bake myself.»
«Fine! Stick to that idea. I like it.»
«And you'll tell me all about my psychology?»
«Sure,» said I. «We'll go into it together. Come on.»
Next day, I spent a lot of time with Mr. Mahound. His suite was full of orchids and cablegrams.
«People are getting excited,» said he, rubbing his hands.
«Yes.»
«We're going to do great things.»
«Yes.»
«Now, what about our Belinda? Can you fit a part to her psychology?»
«Yes. I'm sure of it.»
«Did she … talk about me at all last night?»
«She did. She thinks you're the cat's pyjamas.»
«The cat's pyjamas, eh? Rythym, we're going to do great things. Great things! Run along.»
I ran along to the restaurant where I was to meet Belinda. She seemed to have acquired poise overnight
«Mr. Rythym. How do you do?»
«Listen. A film studio is the greatest democracy in the world. You can call me Charlie.»
«Yes. I'm just simple. I like to cook. How's Mr. Mahound?»
«Belinda, he's wild about you.»
«Tell me. Is he one of the really great producers?»
«The biggest of all. He's got all the money in the world.»
«Yes, Charlie. But there's one thing money can't always buy, not in England anyway. Or is that just a thought of my own?»
«You mean talent. I can guess your thoughts, Belinda.»
«Don't do that. You see, my people are old-fashioned. I think I'd like to play Juliet.»
«It's been done.»
«Not as I shall do it. You shall write a new script, specially for me.»
«O.K. We'll modernize it. The Capulet apartment is in a New York skyscraper. Romeo's a young G-man, from Harvard, but disguised as a Yale man in order to outwit the gangsters. Capulet's Harvard, you see. It builds for a reconciliation, a happy end. Romeo's keen on mountain climbing; that builds up for the balcony scene. On a skyscraper, you see. Only his name's not Romeo. It's Don.»
«Isn't that making him different?»
«Well, you know what Shakespeare said, 'Wherefore art thou Romeo?»'
«Juliet said that.»
«Well, anyway, it showed there were doubts.»
«You're right I've only just thought of it. Charlie, you write my thoughts in a book on Shakespeare, and I'll sign it. I don't want to be an ordinary actress.»
«You won't. But let's go and join Mahound. He's wild about you.»
«And he's really one of the very big producers?»
«He is. But, a word in your ear. (God! It's like a shell! A lovely, rosy shell!) I was going to say, remember you've got the talent. Last night you were just a discovery. Today — you are what you are today. You're developing fast. Think in a big way. Don't let anybody cramp your style. Not even Mahound.»
«No. Because of my art. That's sacred.»
«Grand!»
Mr. Mahound, when we entered his suite, took both her hands in his. «What a very, very lovely thing to do, on the part of a very, very lovely lady, to come and see a poor old film man, in his little hi
de-out in the Beverly-Ritz!»
«Nicky, Charlie's thought me up a part. Juliet, only better.»
«Splendid. Have you anyone in mind for Romeo, my dear Rythym?»
«Oh, some guy.»
«He's got to climb up the face of a skyscraper, Nicky. For me to do the balcony scene, holding a rose.»
«Will your Hollywood leading men manage that, Rythym? They are not all as young as they might be.»
«Sure. They'll climb anywhere. And look, we've got to work in a Joan of Arc touch to build up the part. She's got to save New York.»
«From what?»
«Gangsters. And listen to the pay-off.»
«What's that?»
«Real bullets.»
«Oh, Rythym! Come, come! After all, there are rules to the game, you know. Even I …»
«Hear me out,» I cried. «The part demands it. Doesn't it, Belinda? How's she going to act up, give all she's got, if you let her down on the bullets?»
«I think I ought to have real bullets, Nicky.»
«Of course,» I insisted. «Do you think Theda Bara would have played Cleopatra without a real pearl?»
«Not a real asp, though,» said Mahound, clutching at a straw.
I twitched it away. «Yeah, a real asp, only an old one. With its teeth out. You can use old bullets. Say, you can use old gangsters, and let on they died of heart failure.»
«You sound rather tough all of a sudden, my dear Rythym.»
«Tough? You wait till I get on the set!»
«Perhaps the set will have parquet flooring.»
«Yes, perhaps it will,» said I, despondently. «Perhaps we'll have blank cartridges. Perhaps I'll go out and buy some real pearls instead. Because I'm going to write in a Cleopatra touch, where she comes in rolled up in a carpet»
«Do so, my dear fellow. We've got a writer of talent, Belinda.»
«Charlie's all right, but he gives way so. Please, Nicky, I want real bullets.»
«Listen, folks,» said I. «I'm off to buy those pearls. You talk it over.»
On the way back, I was overcome by misgivings. Had I gone too far? Maybe the pearls were a little vulgar. I thought I'd go to my room and see how they looked with two or three of the largest taken from the middle. As I walked along the corridor the elevator came humming down. Mr. Mahound was in it. He saw me. His lips shaped the words, «She's wonderful!» Then he was gone.