Millard shrugged his shoulders. "Manton Pictures can't—that's a cinch. Phelps has reached the end of his rope, I guess. I'm afraid the trouble with him was that he was thinking of too many things besides pictures."
There was no mistaking the meaning of the remark. Millard was still cut by Stella's desertion of him for the broker. I caught Kennedy's glance, but neither of us cared to refer to her.
"Where can I find Manton now?" Kennedy asked.
"Did you try his office at seven hundred and twenty-nine?" was
Millard's suggestion.
"No; I wanted to see this place first."
"Well, you'll most likely find him there. I've got to go back to the city myself-some scenes of 'The Black Terror' to rewrite to fit Enid better. I'll motor you across the ferry and to the Subway."
At the Subway station, Millard left us and we proceeded to Manton's executive offices in a Seventh Avenue skyscraper, built for and devoted exclusively to the film business.
Manton's business suite was lavishly furnished, but not quite as ornate and garish as his apartment. The promoter himself welcomed us, for no matter how busy he was at any hour, he always seemed to have time to stop and chat.
"Well, how goes it?" He pushed over a box of expensive cigars. "Have you found out anything yet?"
"Had a visit from Phelps this morning." Kennedy plunged directly into the subject, watching the effect.