‘Perhaps they will,’ he replied shortly, ‘but I don’t fancy having American masters.’ For a moment he puffed thoughtfully at his cigar, then he went on: ‘It’s the magnitude of the thing which so astounds me. Do you realise the power these people will have?’
Avril nodded. ‘I didn’t until Nelson Druce explained it to me, but I do now. For the film trade it will be simply terrible, thousands of people thrown out of work, bankruptcies and suicides galore, and the power of the Press won’t be anything compared to the power of the Film Dictators. They will be able to colour the thoughts of the masses in every country, and in the most subtle way of all—through their principal amusement. By continuous propaganda they would even be able to make the people of one country hate the people of another to the extent of going to war, or turn the whole world Bolshevik, if they wanted to.’
For a little time they sat in silence, thinking of this tremendous upheaval which was taking place in their world unknown to the man in the street. Big business gone mad, and letting loose the forces of crime in a supreme endeavour to corner a vast market, using the weight of millions to crush and ruin scores of individual businesses. Then John Bamborough spoke again.
‘What was the name of that young fellow that you met out there, the Englishman, I mean?’
‘Do you mean Ronnie Sheringham?’
‘Yes, that’s it—Sheringham. I was wondering where I’d heard that name before when you mentioned it at dinner. He was down at Hatfield last week.’
‘Ronnie. How very queer! What did he want?’
‘I don’t know that he wanted anything exactly. I didn’t see him for more than a few moments myself—he came down with the usual sort of introduction and said he’d be interested to see over the studio, so I passed him on to somebody and he was taken round. That reminds me though, he did say something about having some proposition to put up—and asked me what day this week would be convenient to see me about it?’
‘What did you say?’ Avril leaned forward quickly.
‘Well, to tell you the truth I didn’t think much of it at the time, he seemed such a boy. I told him that I could give him half an hour tomorrow morning or Thursday, I forget which, but it’s down in my diary. I’d forgotten all about it till now.’
‘I should love to know just what Master Ronnie is after. He didn’t say anything about the “Z” Projector, did he?’
‘No, he didn’t say anything about that. What is it, anyway?’
‘Well, it is supposed to be strictly confidential, but I know Nelson Druce wouldn’t mind my telling you. It is a new invention that he’s been working on. A lens which will show films in relief. Have you heard anything about it?’
‘Have I not, my dear. I haven’t heard it called the “Z” projector before, but I know quite a lot about the thing you mean. The idea’s not new, of course, but if young Druce has really perfected an invention that will do the trick it will be a tremendous thing.’
‘Well, tell me what you’ve heard about it.’
John Bamborough looked thoughtful. ‘It’s supposed to be a secret, of course, but you know how these things leak out, Druce has taken the old Blue Hall Studio at Frensham—it’s a tiny place but I suppose it suits his purpose. They say that he’s producing a film there with this “Z” Projector thing.’
Avril felt a sudden glow of excitement run through her. ‘He is in England then?’ she said quickly.
‘I don’t think he is at present, I believe he is over in Berlin, but I don’t know for certain. He has been here, of course, and he will be back again quite shortly.’
‘Do you know what he is doing in Germany?’
‘No, but there is a rumour that he and the Jung people are negotiating. I imagine after what you tell me that he is trying to secure them in order to keep Hinckman out.’
‘How thrilling!’ Avril’s dark eyes shone. ‘I do hope he pulls it off. I should simply hate to see Hinckman get the best of him. Has he approached you?’
‘Not exactly, but I had a letter from him before he left for Berlin, saying that he had some important business that he would like to talk over with me—and suggesting a meeting for some time next week. I just wrote back saying that I’d be pleased to see him, but I have heard no more. That’s what makes me fairly certain that he will come back, though—that and his new studio. I expect it is about this Combine that he wants to see me.’
Avril leaned forward; she clasped her hands together and rested her elbows on her knees as she looked at her uncle.
‘Uncle John,’ she hesitated. ‘Will you tell me what you intend to do if he asks you to join him?’
‘My dear, it’s impossible to say until I know more about it, I’m quite content on my own. I don’t want to go in with anybody—but I consider that this Combine is a definite menace to all of us. If it is some scheme for mutual defence that young Druce has to suggest, I shall certainly consider it.’
Avril gave a little sigh of relief. ‘That’s splendid, Uncle John, I do hope you will help him.’
His eyebrows went up and a smile twitched the corners of his lips. ‘I have only met Nelson Druce once, and that was when he was over some years ago. I don’t remember him very clearly—may I assume that he is a very attractive young man?’
Avril felt the colour rising to her face and her laugh was just a trifle forced. ‘Oh, he’s quite nice, intelligent, you know, and not bad looking.’
John Bamborough nodded. ‘I see, is that all? For the moment I thought that—er—well!’
‘Oh, don’t be absurd—you’re quite, quite wrong, darling. He’s engaged to Vitelma Loveday, anyhow.’
‘Dear me—what a pity.’
‘Uncle John, I think you’re a perfect beast! But seriously—I do want you to help him all you can.’
‘Well,’ John Bamborough’s answer was cut short by the shrilling of the telephone at his side. He picked it up. ‘Hello! … Yes … Yes, this is John Bamborough speaking.’
He listened for a moment and then put his hand over the receiver. ‘It’s young Sheringham,’ he said quickly.
‘Ronnie.’ Avril hesitated. ‘What does he want?’ she asked. And then upon a sudden impulse: ‘Better say that I’m not here, if he mentions me.’
John Bamborough nodded and spoke into the mouthpiece again. ‘Yes, what is it? The Carlton, yes. I see…. Oh, indeed. Yes, by all means. Eleven o’clock. All right, I will be there Good night.’ He hung up the receiver slowly.
‘Well, what did he want?’ Avril enquired curiously.
Uncle John looked thoughtful. ‘It was about his appointment. It is for tomorrow, and he wants me to meet him at the Carlton instead of down at Hatfield.’
‘I see, and you’re going?’
‘Yes, why not?’
‘Then what are you looking so thoughtful about?’
John Bamborough threw away the butt of his cigar and stood up. ‘I’m afraid, my dear, that we are in for a worrying time.… He says that Hinckman will be with him.’
14
How Hinckman dealt with Bamborough
Two days later Avril was busy putting the finishing touches to her flat in South Audley Street; she had had a thousand things to see to on her return, and the place had not been lived in for more than three months, while she had been journeying round the world. She was engaged in putting away the books that Nelson Druce had so thoughtfully sent on board the Plymouth Hoe.
As she fitted the volumes into her bookshelves, she was thinking about their donor. She had thought about him a very great deal during these last few days; in fact, more than she had thought about him for a month. It was Uncle John who had started the trouble by his half-humorous suggestion that she had a little more than a strictly business interest in the young man.
Uncle John was an exceedingly shrewd person, and Avril wondered what she could possibly have said to give him that impression. It wasn’t true, she had told herself at the time. Avril was not one of those women who regard other women’s men as fai
r game. At Hollywood she had certainly never considered Nelson in any other light than as a pleasant acquaintance. On the boat of course it had been different, during the first part of the struggle she had been so furiously angry that she felt she hated him, but afterwards—when he gave way—she had to admit to herself that some current of understanding had passed between them then, that could never leave them quite the same again.
After her first day out from Los Angeles, she had firmly put any such idea out of her mind. The whole Hollywood party had proved a terrible fiasco as far as she was concerned, and she hoped that she might never again meet any of the people that she had known there. She knew quite well that she would meet many of them some time in the future, but she persuaded herself that it was not likely to be for some considerable time. She had managed, not without some little difficulty, to class Druce among the rest. The fact that she was eating the sweets and wearing the clothes that he had chosen for her, did not make it any easier, but the very fact that something that had happened to her on the last tempestuous night, had made her more determined than ever to get him out of her mind—and she had succeeded.
Now Uncle John had upset the whole apple-cart again and compelled her to think, but even so she refused to admit that she was in love with him—to do so would be an absurd weakness, and Avril was not weak. He had not given the least sign of any interest in her except that which circumstances had forced him to show, and anyhow there was Vitelma.
‘Damn the woman—how I hate her!’ said Avril aloud. Then she realised what she had said, she laughed suddenly and sat down in a chair.
She pulled a little face at herself in the Italian mirror which stood upon a small table at her side and heaved a sigh. ‘Well, at all events,’ she consoled her reflection, ‘now we do know where we are—still we must try and play the game,’ and then she deliberately turned her thoughts to business.
Uncle John had kept his appointment with Hinckman and Ronnie; Avril had heard the details from her uncle that same day over luncheon.
Hinckman had come to the point at once. It seemed that the Combine had definitely made up their minds that Uncle John’s company was the strongest in the British film industry, and frankly declared their intention of operating through it. The only question was, did John Bamborough come in himself to handle the British end, or did they buy him out.
He had politely indicated that he had no intention of coming in, and he had no intention of selling out.
After that declaration Hinckman had become unpleasant. He had laid his cards on the table and told John Bamborough plainly that time was an important factor in the Combine’s programme. They had definitely secured control of six out of the ten big American producing companies, and expected Mozarts to come in any day. Three small companies had already crashed, principally through nervous excitement, the others would follow for a very different reason directly the Combine got going. Star Artists would remain independent—they did not count—but World Wide and Pacific Players would gradually be squeezed out of business. In the meantime they wanted an English house at once, through which to market his productions; then when Mozarts came in their long and arduous campaign would be completed, and they could float the Combine. He promised to wipe out Uncle John’s competitors in six months.
John Bamborough in his kindly, affable way had told Hinckman something of his views upon the evils of combines in general, and got up to go.
Then, the Trans-Continental Electric magnate had handed him a detailed draft for the purchase of his business and a twenty-four hour ultimatum, to decide whether he would accept it, or if the whole force of the Combine was to be directed against him. ‘And,’ said Hinckman, ‘I guess you know where Ubiquitous got off.’
Uncle John replied that he knew that and several other things besides. Then with British bluntness he had torn the draft agreement up and flung the pieces on the floor.
Avril pondered the situation. What would Hinckman do now? she wondered. He must certainly be getting very worried to try and force a deal in such a manner. The Star buying seemed to be proving too much of a drain upon his resources, and yet he was prepared to pay Uncle John a tremendous sum for the Hatfield studios. She knew, too, that Hinckman had not let the matter drop where Uncle John had left it. He had forwarded another copy of the purchase agreement by special messenger, together with a brief note saying that his offer of twenty-four hours in which Uncle John could make up his mind was now reduced to twenty-three.
The time limit was already up—it had been since mid-day—and Avril was anxious to hear if there were any further developments. However, she would not be able to see her uncle until his return from Hatfield, and she did not wish to worry him by telephoning. It was still early in the afternoon, so she decided to go for a walk in Bond Street, where she had several things to do—it was not likely that Uncle John would be back at Regent’s Park until about seven o’clock.
It was just at the end of what is left of the London Season, and Bond Street was crowded in the brief rush that precedes the general exodus to the moors of Scotland and the French coast resorts. In twenty minutes Avril saw almost as many people that she knew. Even in her shoe shop and the little place just round the corner where she procured her exquisite lingerie, she met people eager to talk to her after her long absence.
As she turned into Bond Street again, she ran right into Ronnie Sheringham.
‘Hello!’ he exclaimed, ‘back from the dead, my dear?—what fun.’ He was dressed with his usual careless good taste, his soft hat at a jaunty angle on his attractive head; his blue eyes showed nothing but friendliness and delight.
‘How are the writs?’ Avril asked, smiling.
‘Wilting a bit—I returned from America in funds. Nothing like throwing the dog a bone when you’ve got it, is there?’
‘Ronnie, you’re impossible.’
‘I like that!’ he protested. ‘What about you—skipping your bail? Ten thousand dollars, too! You’ve no idea of the trouble I had with Hinckman—he was livid.’
‘I would rather not talk about that,’ said Avril hurriedly.
‘Right oh! Come and have a cocktail. I’m dying for a drink and it’s just about time. What about the Seven Hundred?’
‘I’d love to—shopping is tiring work.’
‘Come along, then. When did you get back?’ He led her into the less-crowded Albermarle Street.
‘The day before yesterday.’
‘How in the world did you manage it? They fairly tumbled over themselves when they found you’d cleared out. You won’t be able to get back to America in a hurry.’
‘I don’t suppose so, and I haven’t got the least desire to, either. As to how I got away—that is a little secret, my dear Ronnie, which I do not propose to share.’
‘Oh, just as you like.’
‘Do you—er—think there will be trouble over here? I haven’t heard anything, but I’m a little bit frightened about the American police.’
‘Lord, no. I shouldn’t worry about that, they are far too busy. Besides, you know, that lawyer chap, Smithson, dug up a man who had seen the chap that you said did it, running off through the garden. That doesn’t let you out entirely, but it substantiates the statement that you made sufficiently for them to drop the case, I think, and after all they collected ten grand on the deal.’
Avril gave a little sigh of relief. ‘My dear,’ she said, ‘I am glad I met you. You’ve no idea what a weight that is off my mind.’
As she spoke they entered the narrow passage that led downstairs to the Club. They found a vacant table in one of the little alcoves at the far end, under the street, and Ronnie ordered drinks.
After a moment he said casually: ‘Seen anything of Nelson Druce?’
She shook her head. ‘No,’ she said, quite truthfully.
‘Really?’ He seemed quite surprised, then after a moment he shrugged his shoulders. ‘But of course you wouldn’t have, you’ve only been back two days. He is in Germany now—getting bu
sy with the “Z” Projector, or whatever he calls it.’
‘Is he?’ Avril’s large eyes opened wide in seeming ignorance.
‘Yes, didn’t you know? I should have thought John Bamborough would have told you—you’ve seen him, of course?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘He’s been getting pretty thick with Nelson Druce.’
‘Why do you suppose that?’
‘Well, I daresay you’ve heard, Hinckman made Bamborough an offer yesterday, and he simply wouldn’t look at it. He never would have behaved like that if he hadn’t been got at first by Nelson Druce.’
‘I don’t know about that. Uncle John is hardly the sort of person to stand being dictated to, by Hinckman or anybody else. He probably refused entirely on his own account.’
‘Do you really think so?—Hinckman doesn’t, I know.’
‘Well, you say yourself that Nelson Druce is in Germany.’
‘Yes but Hinckman has an idea that Bamborough came to some arrangement with him before he left.’
Avril finished her cocktail and carefully set down the glass. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t think he did.’
‘Well, in that case what about it?’ Ronnie leant forward eagerly. ‘It’s not too late; can’t you persuade your uncle to come in?’
‘No, my dear, it’s nothing to do with me, and I can tell you quite frankly, Ronnie, that if it was, I should advise him to stand out.’
‘But why?’
‘Oh, there are a thousand reasons, and we’ve been over them all before.’
Ronnie ran his fingers through his curly hair; he looked quickly first one way, then the other, and spoke rapidly, in a low voice.
‘Look here, I don’t know everything that Hinckman does by a long chalk—and as a matter of fact, I’m very glad that I don’t—but I do know one thing—he is out to smash absolutely any organised opposition—of that I’m certain, and he thinks your uncle has joined up with Druce. For goodness’ sake tell him to be careful—Bamborough I mean. What Hinckman will do I haven’t an idea; but just think of any dirty trick you like and I wouldn’t put it past him.’
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