He said it quite simply and without the first show of confusion. But this tale of his occupancy of the seaside hut he had repeated frequently, as Mr. Hammond very well knew.
“Where do you go in the winter, John?” the latter asked.
“To where it’s a sight warmer. I don’t have to ask anybody where I shall go,” and now the man’s tone was a trifle defiant.
“I would like to know something more about you,” Mr. Hammond said, quite frankly. “I may be able to do something with your story. We like to know about the person who submits a scenario——”
“That don’t go!” snapped the hermit grimly. “You offered five hundred for a story you could use. If you can use mine, I want the five hundred. And I don’t aim to give you the history of my past along with the story. It’s nobody’s business what or who I am, or where I came from, or where I am going.”
“Hoity-toity!” exclaimed Mr. Hammond. “You are quite sudden, aren’t you? Now, just calm yourself. I haven’t got to take your scenario and pay you five hundred dollars for it——”
“Then somebody else will,” said the hermit, getting up.
“Ah! You are quite sure you have a good story here, are you?”
“I know I have.”
“And how do you know so much?” sharply demanded the moving picture magnate.