“Good idea!” declared Mr. Hammond. “I will speak to Mr. Hooley. There are ‘stills’ on file of all the people he is using here on the lot at the present time. If you are really sure this man’s story is a plagiarism on your own——”
She smiled at him. “I can prove that, too, I think, to your satisfaction. I feel now that I can sit down and roughly sketch my whole scenario again. I must confess that in two places in this ‘Plain Mary’ this man Pike has really improved on my idea. But as a whole his manuscript does not flatter my story. You’ll see!”
“Truly, you are a different young woman this morning, Miss Ruth!” exclaimed her friend. “I hope this matter will be settled in a way satisfactory to you. I really think there is the germ of a splendid picture in this ‘Plain Mary.’”
“And believe me!” laughed Ruth, “the germ is mine. You’ll see,” she repeated.
She proved her point, and Mr. Hammond did see; but the outcome was through quite unexpected channels. Ruth did not have to threaten the man who had made her all the trouble. John M. F. Pike made his confession of his own volition when they discussed the matter that very day.
“I feel, Miss Fielding, after all that you did for my child, that I cannot go on with this subterfuge that, for Bella’s sake, I was tempted to engage in. I did seize upon your manuscript in that summer-house near the mill where they say you live, and I was prepared to make the best use of it possible for Bella’s sake.
“We have had such bad luck! Poverty for one’s self is bad enough. I have withstood the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune for years. But my child is growing up——”
“Would you want her to grow up to know that her father is a thief?” Ruth demanded hotly.
“Hunger under the belt gnaws more potently than conscience,” said Pike, with a grandiloquent gesture. “I had sought alms and been refused at that mill. Lurking about I saw you leave the summer-house and spied the gold pen. I can give you a pawn ticket for that,” said Mr. Pike sadly. “But I saw, too, the value of your scenario and notes. Desperately I had determined to try to enter this field of moving pictures. It is a terrible come down, Miss Fielding, for an artist—this mugging before the camera.”
He went on in his roundabout way to tell her that he had no idea of the ownership of the scenario. Her name was not on it, and he had not observed her face that day at the Red Mill. And in his mind all the time had been his own and his child’s misery.