“That’s what I mean,” confirmed Mr. Armytage.
“Would three hundred and fifty a week interest you?”
“No,” said Mr. Armytage, though he gulped twice before achieving it.
Mr. Walberg reported to his people that this Armytage lad was one hard-boiled proposition. He’d seen lots of ‘em in his time, but this bird was a wonder.
Yet Mr. Armytage was not really so granitic of nature as the Bigart emissary had thought him. He had begun the interview with a smouldering resentment due to a misapprehension; he had been outraged by a suggestion that the spurs be again put to their offensive use; and he had been stunned by an offer of three hundred and fifty dollars a week. That was all.
Here was a new angle to the puzzles that distracted him. He was not only praised by the witless, but he had been found desirable by certain discerning overlords of filmdom. What could be the secret of a talent that caused people, after viewing it but once, to make reckless offers?
And another thing—why had he allowed Baird to “sew him up”? The Montague girl again occupied the foreground of his troubled musings. She, with her airs of wise importance, had helped to sew him up. She was a helpless thing, after all, and false of nature. He would have matters out with her this very day. But first he must confront Baird in a scene of scorn and reprobation.
On the car he became aware that far back in remote caverns of his mind there ran a teasing memory of some book on the shelves of the Simsbury public library. He was sure it was not a book he had read. It was merely the title that hid itself. Only this had ever interested him, and it but momentarily. So much he knew. A book’s title had lodged in his mind, remained there, and was now curiously stirring in some direct relation to his present perplexities.
But it kept its face averted. He could not read it. Vaguely he identified the nameless book with Tessie Kearns; he could not divine how, because it was not her book and he had never seen it except on the library shelf.
The nameless book persistently danced before him. He was glad of this. It kept him at moments from thinking of the loathly Baird.