It was a subject I had discussed several times, heatedly, in the small bi-weekly Los Angeles newspaper, called "Now," in which, as I told the pleasant editor of the Banning paper, I had had a regular column. In this column I could disport as I pleased, provided I stayed within the bounds of propriety and common sense, and all my favorite subjects got a thorough airing. "Now" folded up its tents and quietly stole away into oblivion about the time we left Los Angeles. Writing for "Now" was my first venture from the medium of magazines into that of newspapers, and I have always felt a little guilty about its demise.
I had brought along to the motel meeting a little notebook and my fountain pen, so that I could record pertinent facts about the meeting for the newspaper article I would write. Trying to be as inconspicuous about it as possible, I opened the notebook and wrote in it the names of the men arriving as Mr. Bradley introduced them.
Mr. Bradley spotted my notebook and pen, though, and almost before I knew what was happening, he had me sitting beside him at the table in the center of the room, taking notes on the meeting and acting as temporary secretary.
At one point in the meeting, after many methods of advertising had been discussed and rehashed, and it had been my job as secretary to read aloud a great deal of explanatory literature from advertising sign companies, I became very thirsty. During a dull, lengthy free-for-all about the relative merits of the different companies whose literature had been read, I acquainted Mr. Bradley with the fact that I was nearing death from acute dehydration.
Mr. Bradley waved toward a doorway at one end of the big, people-cluttered living room.
"Kitchen's right in there," he informed me. "Go along the hall and turn left. Go on in and help yourself."
I weaved my way between the chairs toward the doorway. The smoky air was heavy and thick and reluctant to let me through. I closed the door behind me and found myself in a murky hallway. The only light was that which seeped under the door I had just shut, and the glow from a partly open door at the end of the hall.
There was an open doorway at the left of the hall, and I was about to enter the kitchen through it when I heard a whisper.
"Pssst! Come in here, in here a minute."
My curiosity was stronger than my fright. I tiptoed slowly along the hall toward the partly open door and toward the whisper. Outside the door, I hesitated.