"No, I was too quick for him!" declared the tester.
Harry Wilson had no more to say. His bravado deserted him and he was now in abject fear.
"What have you to say for yourself?" demanded Mr. Pertell, angrily.
The other did not answer.
"Now, you get out of here!" ordered the manager, "and never come back."
"I'll not go until I get what is coming to me," was the sullen retort.
"If you got what is coming to you it would be arrest!" declared Walsh.
"I want my money!" mumbled Wilson.
"Here is an order on the cashier for it," said Mr. Pertell. "Get it and—go!"
Hastily writing on a slip of paper, he tendered it to the actor, who took it without a word, and slunk off. The others watched him curiously. It was something they had never before witnessed—an attempt to gain possession of the secrets of the company—for a moving picture concern guards its films jealously, until they are "released," or ready for reproduction.