Altogether without warning Lucinda found herself staring into the homely, greasy grin of Isadore Zinn.
The owner of the studios, without troubling to knock, had opened the door far enough to permit the introduction of his head and nothing more of his person. For a moment or two he held this posture playfully, looking from one to another of the unhappy four with a leer at once inquisitive, knowing, and hideous. Then he thrust the door wide open, came in, and shut it behind him.
"Hello, people!" he saluted affably. "How you making out?"
"Ah, that good Mr. Zinn!" Fanny airily replied. "If you really must know, we're not."
Iturbide stirred and shook his head, smiling gravely. "We talk and talk all day, Mr. Zinn," he said gently, "but we don't get some place. You want to know why? Because there is no place for us to get."
"It's an impasse," Lontaine stated. Then remarking Zinn's nonplussed stare, he interpreted: "We're all in a blind alley, you know."
"Bet your life I know you are," Zinn agreed vigorously. "That's what I butted in to see you about. If I ain't in the way...." The four made reassuring noises. "I was thinking maybe they was something I might do to help out."
"I'm afraid not, Mr. Zinn, thank you," Lucinda replied with regretful gratitude. "That is, unless you can find us a director."
"Funny. That's just what I was going to suggest." The instant stir of animation encouraged him to grin more abominably than ever. "Lay my hands on the very man you want inside five minutes; only they's one catch to it—he's under contract to somebody else."
"Then I don't quite see—" Lucinda began. But Lontaine interrupted: "You mean we can buy the fellow's contract, what?"