Mr. Ellsberger nodded.
“I didn’t know what happened, and I’ll never believe in a thousand years that I stabbed him,” she said vigorously. “I’ve always been too much of a lady for that sort of thing—I was educated at a convent.”
Mr. Ellsberger yawned.
“Take that to Curtis, will you,” he said. “If he can get any free publicity for you, why, I’ll be glad. Now take my advice—stay on. I’ve put Sadie O’Grady way up amongst the well-known products of Movieland, and you’ll be a fool if you quit just when the public is getting interested in you. I’m in bad, but that doesn’t affect you, Sadie, and there ain’t a producer in England who wouldn’t jump at you and give you twice the salary I’m paying.”
She stood up, undecided. Ellsberger was growing weary of the interview. He made a great show of pulling out notepaper and rang the bell for his stenographer.
“The publicity’s fine,” she admitted, “and I’ve felt good about the work. Why the letters that I’ve had from people asking for my autograph and pictures of my Honolulu estate”—she smiled a little frostily—“people in society, too. Why, a titled man who wrote to me from Bournemouth, Sir John Maxell——”
“Sir John Maxell!”
Mr. Ellsberger was interested, indeed, he was fascinated. He waved away his stenographer.
“Sit down, Sadie,” he said. “You’re sure it was Maxell? Sir John Maxell?”
She nodded.