merton of the movies-第25章

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ed　and　entirely　valorous　night　watchman　might　have　neglected　to　observe　that　the　leathern　latch…string　of　the　cabin's　closed　door　was　no　longer　hanging　outside。



CHAPTER　VIII

CLIFFORD　ARMYTAGE；　THE　OUTLAW


Dawn　brought　the　wide　stretches　of　the　Holden　lot　into　gray　relief。　It　lightened　the　big　yellow　stages　and　crept　down　the　narrow　street　of　the　Western　town　where　only　the　ghosts　of　dead　plays　stalked。　It　burnished　the　rich　fronts　of　the　Fifth　Avenue　mansions　and　in　the　next　block　illumined　the　rough　sides　of　a　miner's　cabin。

With　more　difficulty　it　seeped　through　the　blurred　glass　of　the　one　window　in　this　structure　and　lightened　the　shadows　of　its　interior　to　a　pale　gray。　The　long…handled　frying…pan　rested　on　the　hearth　where　the　little　girl　had　left　it。　The　dishes　of　the　overnight　meal　were　still　on　the　table；　the　vacant　chairs　sprawled　about　it；　and　the　rifle　was　in　its　place　above　the　rude　mantel；　the　picks　and　shovels　awaited　the　toil　of　a　new　day。　All　seemed　as　it　had　been　when　the　director　had　closed　the　door　upon　it　the　previous　night。

But　then　the　blankets　in　the　lower　bunk　were　seen　to　heave　and　to　be　thrust　back　from　the　pale　face　of　Merton　Gill。　An　elbow　came　into　play；　and　the　head　was　raised。　A　gaze　still　vague　with　sleep　travelled　about　the　room　in　dull　alarm。　He　was　waking　up　in　his　little　room　at　the　Patterson　house　and　he　couldn't　make　it　look　right。　He　rubbed　his　eyes　vigorously　and　pushed　himself　farther　up。　His　mind　resumed　its　broken　threads。　He　was　where　he　had　meant　to　be　from　the　moment　he　had　spied　the　blankets　in　those　bunks。

In　quicker　alarm；　now；　he　reached　for　his　watch。　Perhaps　he　had　slept　too　late　and　would　be　discoveredarrested；　jailed！　He　found　his　watch　on　the　floor　beside　the　bunk。　Seven　o'clock。　He　was　safe。　He　could　dress　at　leisure；　and　presently　be　an　early…arriving　actor　on　the　Holden　lot。　He　wondered　how　soon　he　could　get　food　at　the　cafeteria。　Sleeping　in　this　mountain　cabin　had　cursed　him　with　a　ravenous　appetite；　as　if　he　had　indeed　been　far　off　in　the　keen　air　of　the　North　Woods。

He　crept　from　the　warm　blankets；　and　from　under　the　straw　mattress　in　which　one　of　the　miners　had　hidden　the　pouch　of　nuggetshe　took　his　newly　pressed　trousers。　Upon　a　low　bench　across　the　room　was　a　battered　tin　washbasin；　a　bucket　of　water　brought　by　the　little　girl　from　the　spring；　and　a　bar　of　yellow　soap。　He　made　a　quick　toilet；　and　at　seven…thirty；　a　good　hour　before　the　lot　would　wake　up；　he　was　dressed　and　at　the　door。

It　might　be　chancy；　opening　that　door；　so　he　peered　through　a　narrow　crack　at　first；　listening　intently。　He　could　hear　nothing　and　no　one　was　in　sight。　He　pushed　the　latchstring　through　its　hole；　then　opened　the　door　enough　to　emit　his　slender　shape。

A　moment　later；　ten　feet　from　the　closed　door；　he　stood　at　ease；　scanning　the　log　cabin　as　one　who；　passing　by；　had　been　attracted　by　its　quaint　architecture。　Then　glancing　in　both　directions　to　be　again　sure　that　he　was　unobserved；　he　walked　away　from　his　new　home。

He　did　not　slink　furtively。　He　took　the　middle　of　the　street　and　there　was　a　bit　of　swagger　to　his　gait。　He　felt　rather　set　up　about　this　adventure。　He　reached　what　might　have　been　called　the　lot's　civic　centre　and　cast　a　patronizing　eye　along　the　ends　of　the　big　stages　and　the　long；　low　dressingroom　building　across　from　them。　Before　the　open　door　of　the　warehouse　he　paused　to　watch　a　truck　being　loaded　with　handsome　furniturea　drawing　room　was　evidently　to　be　set　on　one　of　the　stages。　Rare　rugs　and　beautiful　chairs　and　tables　were　carefully　brought　out。　He　had　rather　a　superintending　air　as　he　watched　this　process。　He　might　have　been　taken　for　the　owner　of　these　costly　things；　watching　to　see　that　no　harm　befell　them。　He　strolled　on　when　the　truck　had　received　its　load。　Such　people　as　he　had　met　were　only　artisans；　carpenters；　electricians；　property…men。　He　faced　them　all　confidently；　with　glances　of　slightly　amused　tolerance。　They　were　good　men　in　their　way　but　they　were　not　actorsnot　artists。

In　the　neatly　landscaped　little　green　place　back　of　the　office　building　a　climbing　rose　grew　on　a　trellis。　He　plucked　a　pink　bud；　fixed　it　in　his　lapel；　and　strolled　down　the　street　past　the　dressing　rooms。　Across　from　these　the　doors　of　the　big　stages　were　slid　back；　and　inside　he　could　see　that　sets　were　being　assembled。　The　truckload　of　furniture　came　to　one　of　these　doors　and　he　again　watched　it　as　the　stuff　was　carried　inside。

For　all　these　workmen　knew；　he　might　presently　be　earning　a　princely　salary　as　he　acted　amid　these　beautiful　objects；　perhaps　attending　a　reception　in　a　Fifth　Avenue　mansion　where　the　father　of　a　beautiful　New　York　society　girl　would　tell　him　that　he　must　first　make　good　before　he　could　aspire　to　her　hand。　And　he　would　make　goodout　there　in　the　great　open　spaces；　where　the　girl　would　come　to　him　after　many　adventures　and　where　they　would　settle　to　an　untroubled　future　in　the　West　they　both　loved。

He　had　slept；　he　knew　wherewith　luckhe　could　sleep　again；　and　he　had　money　in　his　pocket　for　several　more　ample　meals。　At　this　moment　he　felt　equal　to　anything。　No　more　than　pleasantly　aware　of　his　hunger；　sharpened　by　the　walk　in　this　keen　morning　air；　he　made　a　nonchalant　progress　toward　the　cafeteria。　Motor　cars　were　now　streaming　through　the　gate；　disgorging　other　actorstrim　young　men　and　beautiful　young　women　who　must　hurry　to　the　dressing　rooms　while　he　could　sit　at　ease　in　a　first…class　cafeteria　and　eat　heavily　of　sustaining　foods。　Inside　he　chose　from　the　restricted　menu　offered　by　the　place　at　this　early　hour　and　ate　in　a　leisurely；　almost　condescending　manner。　Half…a…dozen　other　early　comers　wolfed　their　food　as　if　they　feared　to　be　late　for　work；　but　he　suffered　no　such　anxiety。　He　consumed　the　last　morsel　that　his　tray　held；　drained　his　cup　of　coffee；　and　jingled　the　abundant　silver　coin　in　his　pocket。

True；　underneath　it；　as　he　plumed　himself　upon　his　adventure；　was　a　certain　pestering　consciousness　that　all　was　not　so　well　with　him　as　observers　might　guess。　But　he　resolutely　put　this　away　each　time　it　threatened　to　overwhelm　him。　He　would　cross　no　bridge　until　he　came　to　it。　He　even　combated　this　undercurrent　of　sanity　by　wording　part　of　an　interview　with　himself　some　day　to　appear　in　Photo　Land：

〃Clifford　Armytage　smiled　that　rare　smile　which　his　admirers　have　found　so　winning　on　the　silver　screena　smile　reminiscent；　tender；　eloquent　of　adversities　happily　surmounted。　'Yes；'　he　said　frankly　in　the　mellow　tones　that　are　his；　'I　guess　there　were　times　when　I　almost　gave　up　the　struggle。　I　recall　one　spell；　not　so　many　years　ago；　when　I　camped　informally　on　the　Holden　lot；　sleeping　where　I　could　find　a　bed　and　stinting　myself　in　food　to　eke　out　my　little　savings。　Yet　I　look　back　upon　that　time'he　mischievously　pulled　the　ears　of　the　magnificent　Great　Dane　that　lolled　at　his　feet'as　one　of　the　happiest　in　my　career；　because　I　always　knew　that　my　day　would　come。　I　had　done　only　a　few　little　bits；　but　they　had　stood　out；　and　the　directors　had　noticed　me。　Not　once　did　I　permit　myself　to　become　discouraged；　and　so　I　say　to　your　readers　who　may　feel　that　they　have　in　them　the　stuff　for　truly　creative　screen　art'〃

He　said　it；　dreaming　above　the　barren　tray；　said　it　as　Harold　Parmalee　had　said　it　in　a　late　interview　extorted　from　him　by　Augusta　Blivens　for　the　refreshment　of　his　host　of　admirers　who　read　Photo　Land。　He　was　still　saying　it　as　he　paid　his　check　at　the　counter；　breaking　off　only　to　reflect　that　fifty…five　cents　was　a　good　deal　to　be　paying　for　food　so　early　in　the　day。　For　of　course　he　must　eat　again　before　seeking　shelter　of　the　humble　miner's　cabin。

It　occurred　to　him　that　the　blankets　might　be　gone　by　nightfall。　He　hoped　they　would　have　trouble　with　the　fight　scene。　He　hoped　there　would　be　those　annoying　delays　that　so　notoriously　added　to　the　cost　of　producing　the　screen　dramalong　waits；　when　no　one　seemed　to　know　what　was　being　waited　for；　and　bored　actors　lounged　about　in　apathy。　He　hoped　the　fight　would　be　a　long　fight。　You　needed　blankets　even　in　sunny　California。

He　went　out　to　pass　an　enlivening　day；　fairly　free　of　misgiving。　He　found　an　abundance　of　entertainment。　On　one　stage　he　overlooked　for　half　an　hour　a　fragment　of　the　desert　drama　which　he　had　assisted　the　previous　day。　A　covered　incline　led　duskily　down　to　the　deserted　tomb　in　which　the　young　man　and　the　beautiful　English　girl　were　to　take　shelter　for　the　night。　They　would　have　eluded　the　bad　sheik　for　a　little　while；　and　in　the　tomb　the　young　man　would　show　himself　to　be　a　gentleman　by　laying　not　so　much　as　a　finger　upon　the　defenceless　girl。

But　this　soon　palled　upon　the　watching　connoisseur。　The　actual　shots　were　few　and　separated　by　barren　intervals　of　waiting　for　that　mysterious　something　which　photoplays　in　production　seemed　to　need。　Being　no　longer　identified　with　this　drama　he　had　lost　much　of　his　concern　over　the　fate　in　store　for　the　girl；　though　he　knew　she　would　emerge　from　the　ordeal　as　pure　as　she　was　beautifula　bit　foolish　at　moments；　perhaps；　but　good。

He　found　that　he　was　especially　interested　in　bedroom　scenes。　On　Stage　Four　a　sumptuous　bedroom；　vacant　for　the　moment；　enchained　him　for　a　long　period　of　contemplation。　The　bed　was　of　some　rare　wood　ornately　carved；　with　a　silken　canopy；　spread　with　finest　linen　and　quilts　of　down；　its　pillows　opulent　in　their　embroidered　cases。　The　hide　of　a　polar　bear；　its　head　mounted　with　open　jaws；　spread　over　the　rich　rug　beside　the　bed。　He　wondered　about　this　interestingly。　Probably　the　stage　would　be　locked　at　night。　Still；　at　a　suitable　hour；　he　could　descreetly　find　out。　On　another　stage　a　bedroom　likewise　intrigued　him；　though　this　was　a　squalid　room　in　a　tenement　and　the　bed　was　a　cheap　thing　sparsely　covered　and　in　sad　disorder。　People　were　working　on　this　set；　and　he　presently　identified　the　play；　for　Muriel　Mercer　in　a　neat　black　dress　entered　to　bring　comfort　to　the　tenement　dwellers。　But　this　play；　too；　had　ceased　to　interest　him。　He　knew　that　Vera　Vanderpool　had　escaped　the　blight　of　Broadway　to　choose　the　worthwhile；　the　true；　the　vital　things　of　life；　and　that　was　about　all　he　now　cared　to　know　of　the　actual　play。　This　tenement　bed　had　become　for　him　its　outstanding　dramatic　value。　He　saw　himself　in　it　for　a　good　night's　rest；　waking　refreshed　in　plenty　of　time　to　be　dressed　and　out　before　the　tenement　people　would　need　it。　He　must　surely　learn　if　the　big　sliding　doors　to　these　stages　were　locked　overnight。

He　loitered　about　the　stages　until　late　afternoon；　with　especial　attention　to　sleeping　apartments。　In　one　gripping　drama　he　felt　cheated。　The　set　showed　the　elaborately　fitted　establishment　of　a　fashionable　modiste。　Mannequins　in　wondrous　gowns　came　through　parted　curtains　to　parade　before　the　shop's　clientele；　mostly　composed　of　society　butterflies。　One　man　hovered　attentive　about　the　most　beautiful　of　these；　and　whispered　entertainingly　as　she　scanned　the　gowns　submitted　to　her　choice。　He　was　a　dissolutelooking　man；　although　faultlessly　arrayed。　His　hair　was　thin；　his　eyes　were　cruel；　and　his　face　bespoke　self…indulgence。

The　expert　Merton　Gill　at　once　detected　that　the　beautiful　young　woman　he　whispered　to　would　be　one　of　those　lightheaded　wives　who　ca