"Positive," returned Maud. "He doesn't really need that film, but it would be good policy—excellent policy—for you to produce it."
"Alfred!" called the manager. "Bring me the stock book."
He ran his finger down the pages.
"January—eh—eh—"
"January twenty-sixth," she said.
"Here it is: 'Special of Annual Meeting, C.F.M. Co.—280 feet.—No. 19,'
Get number nineteen out of the vault, Alfred."
While the young man was gone he relapsed into thought. Maud waited patiently.
"You see," resumed the manager abruptly, "I am making more money for the Continental than I get paid for. That is because I know how. It is not good business to cut down the profits; therefore I should be paid a bigger salary. Miss Stanton, you're a friend of young Jones, who controls this company. Yon might talk to him about me."
"I will," she said.
"You might say I know every trick of the trade. Tell Jones how all the other film makers are crazy to get me. But say how I refuse more money because I believe our directors will wake up to my value and raise my salary. That sounds pretty good, eh?"