“Miss Silvertree’s a lady, young man!” retorted Mr. Bernstein reprovingly. “She’s got one of the finest figures I ever saw. Spangles? I want you to know that there’s one scene where she’s got on the fetchingest costume—five yards of chiffon and fifteen pounds of crystal spangles! It’s beauty, classic beauty, on the screen.”
Leigh suppressed a giggle this time, and only smiled inanely, edging away.
“Looks kinder foolish,” Mr. Bernstein reflected, but he laid a detaining hand on Leigh’s arm. “See here, you’re Leigh Carter, ain’t you?”
Leigh nodded. He half expected an offer for the screen, and he lingered, coloring like a girl.
“Then I guess I can say a word to you—confidential, you understand?” Mr. Bernstein winked slowly. “Entirely confidential—between gentlemen, see?” he added with a stroke of inspiration.
Leigh, flattered in spite of himself, nodded. Mr. Bernstein linked an arm in his.
“Step this way,” he said casually. “Don’t want to attract attention. Now, Mr. Carter——” He paused, allowing the formal address to sink in. It did. Leigh straightened up. “There’s a fellow over at the inn named Corwin. Heard of him?”
Leigh’s color deepened.
“I think so,” he said stiffly.
Mr. Bernstein nodded.