Judy recognized the younger man as the one with the unruly lock of brown hair.
“You were on the tour with us!” she exclaimed in surprise.
“You are from our agency! Why did you tell the guide you were from Hollywood?” Flo demanded.
“Usually,” said the brown-haired young man with an easy smile, “I tell people what they want to hear. You want me to be Blake van Pelt, a native New Yorker. Yes, my dear Miss Garner, that is my name. I already know yours because, you see, I do work on Madison Avenue just as you do—and for the same agency, so I think we understand each other. The guide, another charming young lady, wanted me to be from out of town so I gave her a line.”
“Did you say line or lie?” Flo was angry now and justifiably so, Judy thought. Without in the least understanding what was going on, she felt herself on the side of truth. Something Clarissa had said back in the restaurant flashed across her mind. “Doesn’t anybody in New York care about the truth?” Apparently there were a number of people who did, among them the white-haired projectionist, Mr. Lenz.
“The word is lie,” he said icily. “So you tell people what they want to hear, do you, Mr. van Pelt? I think the purpose of your agency is to make them dissatisfied with what they have so they’ll buy what you have to sell.”
The young man flashed another smile.
“You’ve put it very well. Advertising is a selling job. We’re not in business to entertain people or to make them contented as they sit in their living rooms watching TV. Contented people are like cows. It’s our job to make them discontented. That’s no crime, is it, Mr. Lenz?”
“No, but this is! None of the other networks allow it. I have my orders from the director of this program,” the projectionist declared. “Now, suppose you take your film out of here.”
Young Blake van Pelt picked up a round gray can about an inch thick and a foot across, and sauntered out of the room. Did it contain a roll of film or something more sinister? Judy found herself wondering what Mr. Lenz meant when he had shouted, “It may be as dangerous as an atom bomb!” After he had calmed down a little the projectionist opened a can similar to the one the younger man had taken away with him and said to Irene, “This is the ad we’ll run on your show, Mrs. Meredith. It’s for a tooth paste approved by dentists, and features a cute little girl cleaning her teeth.”