The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 115: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

HIS MAD MOVE ON THE MOVIES. temperament, my boy. Another thing: pretty nearly every adaptable brain in the country is working on that sort of stuff now, and a good percentage of them are third-rate. Cut off even the supply from the third-rate ones and what happens? The motion picture industry rips wide open! “And that’s all I’m after!” snarled the infuriated one. ‘All I want is to cost ’em millions and millions, and I can do it now with a hundred thousand dollars to spend on the job.” “And what happens to any poor fools who do go out on strike?” Jimmy Darton bit the end from another black cigar and laughed wickedly; he was miles and miles from being his own proper, normal self. ‘What happens to any jackass who falls for a glittering swindle?” he asked. “He makes the best of it and knows better next time, of course! I’m sorry if any of them lose their jobs through me; I don’t think many will, because the supply’s short now; but if they do, they’ll have to be sacrificed for the general scheme.” ‘*Jim! ) “And the best of it is that I’m going to hit the mark squarely, because both those lists are up to date. The list of fiction authors I bought for ten dollars from Joe Palmer, the fellow who was trying to get out the literary blue book last summer; he never got away with it, but he did collect the names of everybody, practically, who has sold a story in the last five years. “That list of scenario writers is my own; I went to some pains to compile it three months ago, when I began to take the devil- ish game seriously, and it is accurate. Thomas,” said Jimmy Darton, and the un- pleasant smile cracked his strained coun- tenance, ‘along about noon of day after to-morrow I believe several people will know that James H. Darton has glued on his war-bonnet!”’ “Jimmy, stop this thing now!” pleaded Thomas Morely. ‘‘Don’t spend thousands of dollars in having that idiotic thing wired all over the country! Give these girls twenty dollars apiece and send them home now, for good; to-morrow I'll see what sort of discount the man will consider in buying back this furniture, and—”’ Jimmy Darton’s fist landed on his desk. “Vou chop that rot, also now and for good, or get out of here!” he snarled. “TI 489 wanted you in this and I depended on you, but if you can’t do anything more than whine, the quicker you leave, the better!” Having a temper of his own, Mr. Morely rose and said: “ I’ll leave now, then!” ‘Don’t slam the door on your way out, and tell that peculiarly pretty young person with the blue eyes to come in here and bring five fresh note-books,” responded the demented writer, with equal crispness. ‘Any time you feel like returning, you’re welcome!” Thus it came about that through the long evening Thomas Morely sat alone and browsed darkly on the case of his friend. By bedtime he had found his course; peor Jimmy’s nearest relatives were in Indiana; in the morning—always providing that the papers did not tell of Jimmy’s arrest or ar- rival in a hospital—he would look in at 4444 Cirrus Building. Thus, too, it came about that Jimmy Darton walked his offices until nearly mid- night, smoking black cigars, overseeing six weary girls who worked toward the end of their night-letter nightmare. The seven went down together on the one all-night ele- vator and Jimmy took a taxi to his com- fortable little apartment. He did not even try to sleep. In bath- robe and pajamas he sat by his window and scowled into the black, still night—and the most curious thing was that never a single thought of the American Committee for the Protection of Motion Picture Writers lurked within his seething brain. Toward three in the morning a great, broken sob escaped him as he gazed at the sky, for vault and stars had faded from his abnormal vision and he saw only a horrid wraith of Sibyl Dane, adorable and adored, floating away and away, the wife of an- other! CHAPTER V. ON THE EVE OF BATTLE. EDNESDAY was madness. Morely, entering fearfully just after nine, found the American Committee in full swing again, with Jimmy Darton in his office, snow-white, cleanly shaven, smoking on through a fresh box of black cigars. Letterheads had arrived in quantity. Five girls were hammering frantically at them and at the accompanying envelopes; -a new, younger girl was folding letters and insert- EORMICLOOOKS (C@)