“Amazing,” said the Saint.
“But this is even better,” said Mr Ufferlitz, cheering up. “You’re plenty hot yourself, right now, and some ways you got more on the ball. Everything you’ve done was on your own. And you can still do it. Sergeant York couldn’t play himself because he’s an old man now, but you’re just right. And are you photogenious? Hell, the fans’ll go nuts about you!”
Simon Templar took a long mouthful of Cleopatra.
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Do I get the idea that this earth-shaking idea of yours is a scheme to make a movie star out of me?”
“ Make a star?” echoed Mr Ufferlitz indignantly. “You are a star! All I want you to do is help me out with one picture. We’ll make it a sort of composite of your life, ending up with that Pellman business in Palm Springs. I got a coupla writers working on it already — they’ll have a first draft for me tomorrow. You’ll play yourself in your own biography. I had the idea all worked out for a fiction character — Orlando Flane was going to do it for me — but this is ten times hotter. We can easily fix up the story.”
His face was bright with the autogenous energy of its own enthusiasm. And then, as if a switch had been flipped over, the theatrical lighting was gone. The professional illumination which he had picked up somewhere in his career went away from him, and there was only the heavy-boned face that had kicked an independent union together and made it stick.
“Of course,” he said, “there are plenty of people who’d hate to see me make a hit with this idea. One or two of ’em would go a long ways to wreck it. That’s why I couldn’t try it with anyone but you. I guess you can take care of yourself. But if you’re scared, we can call it off and you won’t get hurt.”
2
She was everything that her voice had promised. Beyond that, she had golden-brown hair and gray eyes with a sense of humor. She looked as if she could take care of herself without hurting anyone else. She had a slim figure in a navy blue sweater that brought her out in the right places. She was taller than he had expected, incidentally. Long legs and neat ankles.
Simon said, “By the way, what’s your name?”