“And somebody unknown stole it?”
“We think it was a vagrant actor. A tramp. Just the sort of person, though, who would know how to make use of the script.”
“Humph! All actors were considered ‘vagrants’ under the old English law—in Shakespeare’s younger days, for instance,” remarked Mr. Hammond.
“You see how unwise it would be for me to try to rewrite the story—even if I could—and try to screen it.”
“I presume you are right. Yes. But I hoped you would bring a story with you that we could be working on at odd times. I have a good all-around company here on the lot.”
“I had most of your principals in mind when I wrote my scenario,” sighed Ruth. “But I could not put my mind to that same subject now. I am discouraged, Mr. Hammond.”
“I would not feel that way if I were you, Miss Ruth,” he advised, trying, as everybody else did, to cheer her. “You will get another good idea, and like all other born writers, you will just have to give expression to it. Meantime, of course, if I get hold of a promising scenario, I shall try to produce it.”
“I hope you will find a good one, Mr. Hammond.”
He smiled rather ruefully. “Of course, there is scarcely anybody on the lot who hasn’t a picture play in his or her pocket. I was possibly unwise last week to offer five hundred dollars spot cash for a play I could make use of, for now I suppose there will be fifty to read. Everybody, from Jacks, the property man, to the old hermit, believes he can write a scenario.”
“Who is the hermit?” asked Ruth, with some curiosity.