* * * * *
Later that day a cadaverous-looking young man was closeted with the vice-president in the vice-president’s dignified quarters.
“My brother tells me you appear to be rather interested in the pictures, Mr. Griffith; how would you like to direct one?”
Mr. Griffith rose from his chair, took three steps to the window, and gazed out into space.
“Think you’d like to try it, Mr. Griffith?”
No response—only more gazing into space.
“We’ll make it as easy as we can for you, Mr. Griffith, if you decide you’d like to try.”
More gazing into space. And finally this: “I appreciate your confidence in me, Mr. Marvin, but there is just this to it. I’ve had rather rough sledding the last few years and you see I’m married; I have responsibilities and I cannot afford to take chances; I think they rather like me around here as an actor. Now if I take this picture-directing over and fall down, then you see I’ll be out my acting job, and you know I wouldn’t like that; I don’t want to lose my job as an actor down here.”
“Otherwise you’d be willing to direct a picture for us?”
“Oh, yes, indeed I would.”